WEBVTT

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Here is a poem.

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Another New York poem called
"Looking for a Soul Mate."

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"Looking for a Soul Mate."

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Recovering puff
pastry and Elmo cookie

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addict, formerly associated
with a French bakery in Soho,

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and one or two choice
sewers in the neighborhood

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where he learned a few
deep things about life.

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Reduced of late to lurking
outside cheap eateries,

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concealing his twitching
whiskers behind a trash can,

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or fighting with pigeons
of a few popcorn.

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Now seeks a comfortable
brownstone free

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of cats, slap traps,
and lip-smacking snacks

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laced with poison.

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Whose wealthy owner
gives lavish dinner

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parties, and where he'll be
free to mingle with bankers

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and lawyers, and sit
in their wives' laps

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like a much pampered pet.

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