Zaboo was a cat that we shared at school,
animated by imagination,
brilliant on a thruster during high surf,
only he would show up when we were bored,
on a page of ruled paper, a doodle.
Why a cat that could surf, Zaboo Kitty
acted out our fantasies to ride waves,
slipping out in the dark before dawn.
As we sat in homeroom writing essays...
Cats were mysterious creatures to watch,
animated by imagination,
the power of children to unleash their minds.
Taunted by dogs yapping at him, Zaboo
hit the beach first thing at the last gleaming,
as crepuscular twilight turned to rise,
the horizon in the west with sunset.
We grew up in Huntington Beach and knew
even less of the horrors of L.A.
School was where we learned to read and to write,
how little we use it now as adults,
arithmetic and algebra, who cares
really about quadratic equations,
enter the world of following the rules,
discipline and punishment made order.
Animated by imagination,
the little cat we drew, Zaboo Kitty.
Sometimes we would shout out "Zaboo" to speak
cool in our closeted reality,
how kids in East L.A. were dealing drugs
on the sly, making money, getting shot,
only, we never knew what they went through,
lest gangster rap inform us of the news.
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