I have written one poem in my life. It goes like this.
Cats Hate to Shop
Cats hate to go shopping. I got cats.
I know. I used to think that they
depended on me. Now I realize that
I used to open all those cans of
catfood. They’d stare at me and rub
up against my leg and piss on the
rug so I’d break down and open those
catfood cans for them.
So I decided to find out once and
for all. I locked my cats indoors
with twenty-three cans of catfood
and two can openers. I left town
for a month. And when I got back
They were finishing the last
can when I got back.
After that I realized that the only
reason I have to go to the store
to get catfood is because cats hate
to shop.
I mean really hate to shop.
So I decided to find out once and
for all. I left a twenty-dollar bill
tucked under their water bowl. I
left town for a month. And when I
got back
They were all dead when I got back.
Cats would rather die
Than go shopping.
—Steven Durland ©1984