Are You Drinking! Poem by James McLain

In a box in the closet.
Last night my cat had two kittens.
Easier said than done.
The little-known girl down stairs.
She now mutters.
Mum she called her mother.
Tourette syndrome one of them must have.
Making a detour to the fridge,
I hear the kittens crying.
I picked the wrong day to come over.
Growing old less limber,
my body aches as she climbs again on top.
I have had regrets over this neighborhood,
my sister still reminds me that.
Are you still drinking daily she would ask?
We still live in the past.
Where we can take the electric meter out,
and turn it upside down.
Spinning backwards helps pay for my beer.
The kittens they must go.
But the S.P.C.A. will kill them hear.