strange bedfellows

excuse me, sir, but
for the umpteenth time,
could you please move over?

every single time
I get out of bed – which I do
with truly ridiculous frequency –
you immediately rush
to occupy my side. it’s
nice, I guess, that you’re keeping
my spot warm for me, but
you’re always reluctant to leave it
when I return in five minutes –
having done something
probably unnecessary like
smoke a cigarette while
tweeting a bunch of nonsense
or messaging someone –
and I’m getting pretty tired
of asking you
to move. and then
half the time
you insist on cuddling.

it was cute at first, but
you seem to feel compelled
to scratch me
multiple times
before positioning yourself,
and then you start biting
whatever part of my flesh
is in front of your face.

if I’ve told you once,
I’ve told you a hundred times:
no biting! or your cuddling
privileges will be revoked.
also you’re overdue for a
claw clipping. these deficiencies
must be corrected
before any further intimacy
will be awarded. finally,
your breath reeks
of cat food.