in California


in the alley Where feral cats live
I saw a raccoon creeping

in the garbage Survivor Wish I
could feel anger sound low
in the chest to act on this
but I’m identifying with

the smallest creatures
Where feral cats live
a person is a metaphor

Oh it gets so lonely
When you’re walking
And the streets are full of strangers

Hate’s already part of our dreams
Waking curled like sick kittens
up towards the head of a sheet Running
from the silent ones They say

thousands of feral cats live in this city
but how many guns in this building
and how many guns in this street where feral cats live

and how many guns add up to pixelated adolescence
and how many guns add up to narcissistic heroism

Maybe he felt it was the way to
How many shots to make
Did he think that people

There is no cat who hates herself that much
What does she think when she hears people yell
in our alley at night or during the day
or during a lunchtime or in a beach town

2 thoughts on “in California

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