Cool Cats

The cat is quiet on my lap
Jazz plays on the radio
I feel discomfort in my belly
But maybe this is not enough
I must really be suffering
The injustice of the cat's total release
Flopping across my knees
So I must maintain his balance
My foot numb on the wooden seat
He glares at my writing hand
I stroke him with the other
He follows the pencil like it's a butterfly
Weighing his chin down, purring
I am captive to this warm, soft
Unfriendly cat
A-kind, as in amoral
Pure selfishness
We suffer the same
Affliction