cat with herb

On the front step
Watching the orange cat
Chewing… Biting really
The herb growing by the sidewalk
Tiny blue blossoms
I don’t know… maybe it’s catnip
I thought, “this‘d make a good poem”
But it wasn’t dirty enough or something
Because honestly, in my hand,
Was a device tuned to a digital book about behavioral triggers
Because maybe someday I want to make something
More of my life than impulsively scribbling down
These dirty scraps of noticing…
Not even insights… Just saw a cat, big deal
But he was so mad at this herb
Maybe it wasn’t catnip
And a real poet would be reading a book on native herbs
Then of course the cat noticed me
And stared at me hard like… I really can’t say
As if it wanted me to turn into a big pizza
Or a live tuna fish
He even took a few steps towards me
And let out a miserable squawk
But I wasn’t feeling it
maybe I was being cat like
He gave up and walked away