Burroughs wrote about cats

landscape, animalscape dreams
and visions about milk

I write about barroom implosions
and pinpoint road at horizon
and the burn of whiskey and karaoke
and free form skyline melodies,
remembering scents in between thoughts,
something bright out of the corner
of my eye
or driving circles around these bricks
and sometimes... about lips
I've all but drowned out
with rivers and wine

but none of those are cats

Burroughs wrote
we are the cats inside. we are the cats who cannot
walk alone, and for us there is only one place.