I’m a runaway from Commack, Long Island, left home when I’d turned only two and that same spring had a truly torrid fling with a pandemonious she-panther from the surly wrong side of the alley, soon thereafter landing in a trap for vagrant, feral cats, very much like the one I’d recently become. Turns out that at my would-be mother-in-law’s beckoning, I moved in on … Continue reading “from Jubilate Neoleo (Harry, his cat)” by Larry Jones