A Society of Cats
The thing about cats is
(they're liquid
love boxes
Schroedinger's is deadalive)
it's difficult to imagine
a society built by them;
after all,
they knock things off shelves
just to watch them fall.
And if two of them got into
a boat together,
and headed out
to sea,
you know damned well that one
would hold up a fish on a line
and dangle it over the depths,
trying to trigger
the predatory instincts
of his companion—
you know damned well
that his friend's eyes
would dilate
and there'd probably be
a tiny butt-wiggle
before he leaped out
like Icarus
over the waves,
claws extended, tail-lashing—
except these seas
(given a world of cat-people)
would probably be infested
by tentacular Elder Gods
all eyes and greedy,
invasive sucker-laden arms—
(you know how this ends;
you've read manga
on the internet)
and his buddy,
safe back on the boat,
would laugh at his predicament.
So perhaps
it's not so hard to imagine
a society built by cats—
it'd be
just like ours.
