abandoned boots

where have all the cats gone

the sun is not glaring

the rain is not pouring

there are plenty of foof in the trash bin, I think

or at least it’s the perfect time

for a nap on a rocking chair at that kind lady’s porch

where have all the cats gone

is it because of the numerous stray dogs

these plain-colored regular-tailed razor-fanged devil-faced dogs

one cat is left in the land of dogs

she can only curl in a very safe place

she can only say a few meows at a time

she has to chew the dogs’ jokes before she laughs

she just walks but is thinking that everyone is watching

piercing her back still

she licks her fur everyday and pay a large

attention at her odor

she is unreachable as clouds high in the sky

pigeons bursting out of her mouth the dogs are dumbfounded

sometimes she just wants to scream at the top of her lungs

just to see if anybody cares

she loves being petted but she is as wild as a carnaval

she loves being the object of surrealist painting

drawn as a maniac in Alice in Wonderland, or any other story

she must choose her own comfortable pair of boots

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