Halloween with Christopher

7 years I was sentenced the night I crossed paths with the black cat.
I traveled the path much taken out of Hoboken
and there he was.
The pussy straightened its whiskers,
fixed his bow-tie, and situated his striped hat.

The cat in the hat kissed the Mad Hatter.
There were mad hats in that situation.
“Mommy, why are those two boys kissing?”
a passing boy inquires.
The kitty takes his paw off the Hatter’s rear
and fixes his Thing 1.

The Syphilisfull girl pierces her blistered lip as
the feline watches the dead bodies
crawl through Grenwich. The death parade marches without life.
He stares his cat eyes at the people that crowd the streets of
SoHo, Union Square, and Christopher Street.
A cross dresser steps on his tail and he belts
out an eardrum shattering “meow”.

The black cat removes his cap and whistles.
Thing 1 and thing 2 come
leaping and bounding down
Christopher Street
and disappear
into the depths of his hat.
He gently bows and
vanishes under a sewer cap.