Catskin

by Esto Banga

Well, you know they say
there's more than one way
to skin a cat, for instance
you can pop the skin off with
a pole stole from the back
of a Hog Island pickup truck
(there's a picture on the side
of a naked babe with the head
of a cat--nice coincidence, I guess)

then put the skin on the
head of a politician, maybe the
mayor of Bangor
let him stroll along the Penobscot
with this catskin hat -- one small dead
face above a near-dead one
the tail hanging down maybe tucked

under his nice fairly well-pressed
white shirt or maybe hanging under his
chin over his regular tie (no need for that
now with a nice cat-tail replacement
washes clean every time)

and he sees a wrinkled up matron
he wants to say "hello Mrs. Dripwater
how are your fucking peonies today?"
but just squeezes her big fat arm then
sees a few corporate types
(I bet one's got some blue pet treats
pushed down his boxer shorts)

they got some money stuck between their
teeth -- he can wipe the money out with
his nice whiskers and stuff it up under
the back of his head where the cat
used to pee -- or stuff the money
and two more cats in his pants
making some huge bulges sure to
impress the kids, the voters, his
wife, the fish salesmen, not to mention a few
other cats with good jobs at City Hall

yes sir the end of a long day back
home in bed, still wearing that empty
cat and when he turns over
dreaming about dry humping two
councilwomen behind the snack
table, the cat turns on his head so
the tail goes down his mouth
plunges down that gullet like a
pancake ladle now it
wraps around his heart pretty
soon he gets palpational sweats
an itchy strawberry feeling
and he sees a vision of
the President

a guy who goes out every night
looking for a catpiece of his own.

-- EB
©2000 Esto Banga

Esto Banga lives somewhere in Kentucky, where he can not usually be reached. He seems, now, to be traveling in Massachusetts.