I am the cat they put on a leash,
I will not be led,
I laid on my side instead,
was dragged through the grass--
a long-haired, furry black mass--
till in chagrin, they let me win.
I will not be led.

I am lithe and sleek, a tabby.
I will not be led.
They put water in a dish:
I did not drink it, lapped toilet
and day-old deck water instead.
Now, I only drink from running tap
Cool, fresh, crystalline, clean
and make them turn it on
as soon as they get up
or as soon as they sit down.
It must not run too hard:
I hate wet paws.
If they do it right
I bring them a dead bird,
which makes them scold and scorn
But I will not be led.

When I was born,
I will not be led,
I could not, would not speak,
and when I did my first word was
Nooooooooooooo!
"O" with long, oozing, agonizing stress
I would not smile, a bit a grouch,
And learned to walk in secret.
I seem severe and sometimes cranky
But would not be led.

On the bridge to Lindsay Park,
where I was not led,
I stopped to watch a wild duck
swimming over smooth green water
at graceful angle with stoney shore,
in stately feathered glide
beneath the sun in momentary pleasure
without pressure or other measure.
It was not led, but in that moment
From depression and all care
I fled but was not led.

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