Sitting on a Portuguese Seawall - May 11, 2024

behind me  sun-pitted landscape

dull grays  dire browns

covered with a festival

of white boxes  lime-washed homes 

painfully bright

she jumps up next to me

a rumpled tabby  pregnant

friendly  her rump and tail

rising with each stroke

she leaps down into the

litter below  bottles  cans

wet cardboard  plastic cups

and surely  bedraggled mice

sickly rats  a toothless vole

she must find enough to eat

for more than herself

while this 5 o’clock tourist

ponders more gluttony

on a ship of plenty  served

in bottles  cups and cans

but no cats or rats

quite a few toothless voles though

bent over tablecloths

devouring all they can