One warm and blust'ry autumn day
While on my way to home do I
Just hap'n to cast my wayward glance
On lovely serendipity

No angels sing, nor trumpets blow
No fanfare heralding my find
The skies stay closed, her clouds unmoved
As if to ease my eager mind

How fortunate, to be the one
Who on this busy midday street
Could recognize the beauty there:
My strategy will be quite fleet

I pass the place and in the glass
Appraise my cloned reflection so
A bit disheveled, I admit
But good enough, at least for show

I poof my cheeks, and smoothe my tail
And make sure that my ears are straight
With one last look I throw a wink
The rest, of course, is up to fate

My spine is straight, my step composed
And in the door I stride with ease
The cat behind the counter stares
At me like I’m a host to fleas

“Good day,” says I, with practiced flair
As much as one can do in jeans
“I prithee tell me all about
What 'Buy One Get One' truly means.”

He clears his throat with mild disdain
Looks down his nose and bares a fang
His posture judging, haughty, smug
I can’t but help a guilty pang

“My dear sir coon,” he all but sneers
“If one must beg it be explained
You have no business standing here
So leave, or I'll have you detained.”

My hackles rise, my tail afloof
How dare he talk to me that way
Assuming wealth, or lack thereof
Because I dress up like a stray!

The virtues of a pauper's life
Are countless, I will have you know
It's wealth of mind and spirit that
I value more than piles of dough

But things of beauty have no price
Despite the numbers on the tag
Some things in life are worth the wait
(Just like the chance to boast and brag)

“I merely wanted,” I explain
“To buy what's in that window there
So kindly let me know how much
And I'll take my leave of your hair.”

He smiles, how cruel, this feline thug
His lips rise to a Cheshire grin
“The red one or the blue one, sir?”
Considering, I scratch my chin

The red one would go with my eyes
A complement vermilion tone
But blue could take the pride of place
Up on my topmost shelf alone

“The blue,” I say, and nod to show
My mind's made up, my conscience clean
Without a beat to miss he says,
“That one's on sale. Only nineteen.”

“That's quite a deal. It's sold,” I smile
And plunk a twenty in his paw
He looks at me and laughs, quite rude
A mocking, hurtful, loud guffaw

“You entertain, I'll give you that,
But nineteen hundred seals the deal.
You're out of luck, so come back when
You look like you're not out to steal.”

I say no words, but turn and walk
Far from his hateful racist rants
And, turning, blushing, don't look back
My paws shoved deep into my pants

I vow to me, to God, to all
That one fine day, I will retrace
My steps and then I’ll finally buy
The Shiny sitting in that case.

---

Poem by Whyte Yote
Illustration by Teaselbone