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This Cat Is Now My Cat & other poems

This Cat Is Now My Cat

I hope that my girlfriend doesn’t come back tonight.
In fact, I hope my girlfriend never comes back.
I hope that her cat becomes my cat.
It basically already is.
I fucking love this cat.
This cat rubs against my leg with more genuine affection
Than any else has
In a little too long.
I believe this cat now loves me more than it Loves anyone else.
I am special to my girlfriend’s cat.
She’s not coming back.
This cat is now my cat.
I am too immature to go buy my own.
I think that I’ll take anyone’s cat
Who happens to leave it here and never comes back.
I will feed them all.
I promise.
You shouldn’t trust my promises, though.
I will rename your cat… Milo
Irregardless of its sex.
I will use semi-real words such as “Irregardless” around your cat.
I will know what its meows mean.
I will hold your cat up purring to the moon.
Its pupils will dilate when it is hungry
And I will tell it, “Oh be patient!”
I’ll teach your cat virtues.
I am getting hammered tonight
All by myself,
Except for this cat,
Who is also here…

Intentions Matter

If a dog takes a shit
On the doorstep of the church
It doesn’t mean anything

But If I take a shit
On the doorstep of the church
It definitely means something

Or maybe it doesn’t
Maybe you’re just projecting

Don’t Rob The Houses

“Don’t rob the houses,” he says.
Gary says don’t rob the houses.
He should talk.
I bet Gary robs the houses.
Gary and I work together
In the dog walking industry.
Gary says he’s quitting.
Getting a bar-back “position.”
He says he has more ambition.
I say I’ll take his work.
What’s he mean don’t rob the houses?
Like that’s something I’d do.
If I wanted to rob the houses
I’d have done it already.
I have so many apartment keys
Hanging from my hip
That the weight of my temptation
Makes me lean.
I only chill in their places
While they’re at work
Walk the dog
Come back in
Lay on their couches
Or in their beds
Shit on their toilets
Don’t rob the houses…

Life in my apartment

I have a billion plastic grocery bags
Under my kitchen sink

This time next year
There will be 2 billion plastic grocery bags
Under my kitchen sink

I can never throw them away
I love them all
They come bubbling out at me
Getting in the way
Every time I reach under there
To grab something more useful
Like a gut wrench
Or some Drano
Or some All-Purpose Cleaner
Anything I might drink
To make my mind less dirty
And backed up

They come bubbling out at me
Saying use me! use me! use me!
Just like I say to the muses
Living in my walls
Who only ever come out
To ask me for my cigarettes

I am a useless plastic grocery bag
Under my kitchen sink
And God is a bearded fuck
Drinking a bottle of Drano

–Craig Kite


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