A Dead Cat in Hollywood

By Worthington

I pass it every day
On my evening jog
It must have been hit
By a car
And crawled off to die
By the side of the road
I can only hope
It did not suffer.

I watch it change
In the wake of high-priced cars
And luxury smog
Its mottled fur, pulling away
Its feline frame
Slowly reclaimed
By the pavement.

I called the city of L.A.
But no one came
And it remained
For months through a summer
Of liquidation
And foreclosure
The terrible face
Of hard times
And the indifference of life
Here in the fast lane.

I try to look away
But cannot divert myself
From this private pain
Playing out on the walkway
An empty sequin collar
A white zipper spine
Now all that remain.

WORLD WONDERS

LINK The Giants Causeway

The Famous Poems Library

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