Bebe is my muse
Thank you, Bebe.

Unlike Leonard, I don't have
a plaited rope of beauties
to write into songs of love
and hate.
Though there have been a few
along the way.
These days I find myself writing
about Bebe The Cat -
the one who sees me naked
hears all my secrets
and shows me her pleasure
and shows me her joy,
about rain, chasing feathers
and stretching a leg.

I wonder
if in another world
she is writing poems
about me?