Friday 30 November 2012

#59 - The Fat Tuxedo Cat

Sheaves of blubber droop
over his bowtie. His monocle drops
into the Go Kat and he laps it clean.

I have watched him orbiting his anuerism
for years now; he arrives in London
at the start of each season,
more corpulent than before,

furious at the world
for what he has become:
a brain trapped inside a huge pillow,
drowning on dry land,

riding his litter,

                         sneezing gravy.

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