Nikki, Catnip Dreamer

Daddy, I am "Kitty pot wipes."
I eat it; get it all over my face,
then roll over in stone oats,
blend it through my coat,
pass out in my bowl.

I found your stash of weed.
It hides in a convoy.
Here were half-matched socks.
They were poorly blended
mixed colors, some short, some long.
You are no Walt Whitman daddy.
I dream of Alaskan salmon.
I dream of snow banks.
Instead, I see yellow piss, wild mustard seeds.
Why do I find myself hunched on the bathroom scales?
Why this diaper wrapped like a helmet around my head.
I used to light up my room,
now I am convinced I am a lampshade.
I am fenced in but I can see right through time.
I am a catnip dancer on a kitty cat buzz.

Or you could try the Spoken Version...

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, photographer who experiments with poetography (blending poetry with photography), and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois, who has been published in more than 750 small press magazines in 26 countries. He edits 7 poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom (136 pages book), several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning Rises, Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems. He also has over 69 poetry videos on YouTube.

Find more by Michael Lee Johnson in the Author Index.

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