Al Fresco Dining
Ctenocephalides felis
A black cat saunters under our table
where a meat meze calls to its nose.
Feeding it would keep it attentive;
there’s more kleftiko than we can eat.
I tickle its brow. It looks hopeful.
A piece of its ear is missing
like a voting form with a torn-off chad.
It tilts on one hip and lifts a back leg
to scratch, vigorously, its neck.
It meanders to the next table
where a woman drops
a pork cube from her souvlaki.
She’s made a friend for the evening,
thirty, if you include the fleas.