for a round of modern trade today,
I noticed, hurriedly, curious things:
that dingy kittens sat like kings,
each one - flea-bitten - on a Dolev bin,
master of all that lurked within;
alert for deposits of rancid cash
each time a human drops off trash.
The kitty pride which they project
assures us they will well protect
the potential vital energy
from fishy bits and moldy skee
which turns into a flashing claw,
the power of god in a kittens paw.
Pondering this plan for waste
I blustered on with all due haste,
a rodent in a larger race.
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