It's literally become my whole life
standing in the cat food aisle
confounded, contemplative, indecisive
while others notice how afraid I am
to bring home the wrong food.
Other feline moms and dads
shuffle by, toss in a few of this
a few of that and they're off.
Amazed by their quick choices
and untroubled expressions
I backtrack, recall the wins and
what was rebuffed. I think of
those long furry faces in tiny cages
wet food beside them, hardened.
They could be using their course
tongues to lap up ever last bit,
purring melodically that it's not
the same dry pate; it's a feast.
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