There is a hole in the sky, where
the moon used to be, midnight.
I’m walking home from the bar
only seen by cats,
life battered whores,
followed by ghosts,
to a dark room, and a window
facing a factory wall.

Don’t complain, there are those
who live in tents on the plain;
lucky them.
Sixty today,
what happened to the many years?
And where the hell is my milky coffee,
my biscuits and rocking chair?

A coal black kitten came out of a yard,
tail erect, meows, strokes itself
ingratiatingly up against my trousers legs,
bloody pussy cat
can’t you see that I’m pissed?

Epilogue:
a fat cat lives in my room
thinks, it’s paradise.