The Love Song of a Former Alley Cat

Let me leave then,

While the languid moon keeps watch in the sky

Like a slowly blinking eye;

Let me sleep in familiar alleys,

The loathsome galleys

Of nauseous nights on dumpster pillows,

Winds of stink blowing black plastic billows:

Alleys with rains that make small seas

On the opaque asphalt of lamplit streets

In eager urgency

To show me an insufferable reflection …

Oh, do not ask what I saw

Let me step over with my paw

The white kitten that whined for milk in the alleys,

The hungry kitten that wandered into the dumpsters of the alleys,

Stuck her tongue into the corners of a can,

Lapped up shreds of flesh in the brine,

Licked the steel lid, felt a sharp prick,

And seeing the can flood with dark red liquid,

Bent her head to other things, and dined.

And indeed, given time

Her matted back accrued a company of fleas,

And her snout learned to dig into green-tinted cheese

Given time, given time

She seared her senses with alley stenches,

Starved alongside her fellow feline wenches,

And her eyes learned to lock on the same putrid peach

As they, to secure her meal at their expenses.

The kitten was I

And indeed, in due time

I saw a cat walking on a dangling leash

With white paws that knew to step around mud,

A snout that knew to scrunch at the smell of sour things,

Eyes not frantic searching, but just observing the street, then me.

And it wasn’t my dirty condition

That first taught me shame

Nor was it her neatly trimmed claws or clean brushed furs…

It was her gaze

Filled not with disdain

But disturbed recognition

Then I knew the truth, knew it all:

Knew the truth I may have missed if she were a different breed—

As it was, I could not deny the resemblance

Between her visage and my image in the puddle on the street;

We stood like a mirror grossly misaligned:

One side clearly wrong, and I thought her too clean,

But when we met eyes, both knew the wrong one was me

So how could I escape my shame?

And I knew the truth then, knew it all—

When I thought alley cats were a disgrace to the species,

And hated those that shyly draped leaves over their feces,

(As if what we excrete could be distinguished from what we eat!)

I knew that I judged with groundless conceit

And how could I escape my shame?

And I knew the truth then, knew it all—

Knew it was a false kind of freedom

When I sought more rancid rot and gorged myself on fouler scum

(Dirty cats have dirty tongues)

Knew I spoiled my body out of spite

To convince myself that’s who I was

And could I then escape my shame?

And how would I begin?

Should I disappear from every alley

And walk past the glow of the last lamplight’s reach

Into a shadow to rest in till my hunger dies with me? …

I should have been a band of stars

Turning about the dark deep.

And the night you saw me and bent a knee,

I wondered, “Will he dare?” and, “Will he dare?”

My whiskers stained and soiled with grease,

My matted fur infested with fleas—

You picked me up with both hands bare

And carried me down the street;

Will he dare

Take me?

I thought you a fool like the white kitten whining

As I bobbed in your arms to the rhythm of your feet

And was it worth it, after all,

To let you drench me in a sea you made in a white tub,

And pour on sharp-scented syrup that lathered with a rub

Was it worthwhile,

To let you comb my fur and find my hidden fleas,

To watch my dirt darkly cloud the clear pool,

If all I gained was a sense of unease

To know you were not a fool

Who couldn’t distinguish between dirty and clean?

And was it worth it, after all,

Was it worth while,

To let the doctor poke my leg with needles,

Illuminate and peek into the places where my teeth hurt,

(The doctor wore gloves, though you washed out all my fleas—

He knows the filth of the alley lives in me)

If after licking myself with my dirty tongue

And hearing you say, “You’re already clean,”

I went and waited on the edge of the tub

Because I could not believe?

No! Every day you make me your pet,

I search in your eyes for a sign of regret;

When I tear the trash open and you gently trim my claws,

Telling me what not to eat, making all these laws,

I want to hide

Knowing you hate the alley cat inside;

You want the white cat on a leash that I will never be

Though now I look the same,

All of me feels like mean mimicry

I’m ashamed … I’m ashamed …

Wherever I go, it’s always the same.

Shall I return to the alleys? Do I dare to believe?

I shall walk into your room and ask if you’ll let me leave.

I see a piece of lint on the bottom of your feet.

Even your dirty is clean.

You lay high on the mattress above,

Floating on the waves of radiant white sheets.

I straighten my back preparing to ask

When you pat the space beside you on the bed without a glance,

And for a second, I forget the question.