Bice And The Blue Cat

I have told the blue cat everything

As I have sat here with buttered toast in the morning.

I have told him how, regardless of newspaper or novel,

Loud conversations at other tables,

Noisy busboys,

Or the aroma of pancakes on a platter passing by in a waitress' hand,

I have not been able to forget

How she says her R's;

I have not been able to stop her hearing

When I have only thought, not spoken.

The blue cat is the only blue cat,

And that is why I ask for his opinion.

He can be had for a kipper,

And yet he is as haughty as a Pharaoh.

I have told the blue cat everything

As his eyes follow pant legs and smooth calves as if they were so many mice.

I have told him that I don't know what to do,

But that when my tea arrives I decline honey, refuse sugar,

Because she likes hers tart.

The blue cat is the only blue cat, and does not speak, but rolls over on his back--

His impossibly angled head says,

Silly silly woman,

There is only one Bice

And there is your answer,

Madam.

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