Conversation between a cat and a poisonous centipede

Under concealment of the tail-end of night,

Cat spies centipede

Poised contemplatively on the rim of her tin.

 

Centipede, after greeting cat:

I don’t know enough to make the right choices!

You don’t know enough to advise me.

We’re drifting, we’re guessing.

But I can’t keep doing things the same old way.

This deadly fungus I wear on my back that glows in the dark,

It’s not me anymore.

It’s coming off!

 

Cat:

Well, you’re right. What works for me won’t work for you.

But take that fungus off

And you won’t be seen on the path.

People will step on you when they relieve themselves at night. . .

 

Centipede:

I’ve seen you let your master hold your face

Affectionately in his hand like an apple.

You know you are loved,

So you catch the mouse and willingly eat from the tin

Even though, as you have mentioned many times

My friend,

Pharoh’s palace flashes on your retina

When you close your eyes!

Don’t you want to be back

In the jungle

Where your ancestors made their home well before

They were keeping pests out of the temple?

What is your glowing fungus, my domesticated brother?

 

Cat:

Leave me out of your discontent.

I am well off, but

Nature loves you.

If you do something for love of yourself and your kind

Nature will notice.

Maybe it will be the new thing!

 

Centipede:

Thanks for your support.

Besides, I’m at the bottom of the food chain;

I’m the decider.

 

With that centipede finds a way to remove the fungus

From his back

And cat eats him without a thought.