Jazz Cats

A/N: For Kat, who knows that everybody wants to be a cat. 

Jazz Cats

Soft cat paws

whisper through the night,

and pad alleyways,

by the fog-quenched light.

Roaches scuttle from cans,

pinprick feet tickle brick streets,

and a man outta luck

croons a slow, sad tune,

and taps his boot in the muck.

Rats slide slimy bellies

through mounds of trash heaven.

The man's stomach

rumbles hungry drums,

craving cracker crumbs.

The working girl strides by.

Weary, stilettoed feet

click-clack a beat,

before crackling beads, and sequined friction,

disappear onto a fog-veiled seat.

Intake of breath,

and rustling nose hairs

pick up her eau de toilette.

Sharp, floral scent of Joy by Patou,

mingled with choking Diesel puffs,

and ripe, caustic foodstuffs.

The man croons on

after the girl is gone,

and the low howl

of the alley cat's song,

cries a bloody tune

of love gone wrong.

Liquid, amber, feline eyes,

glow like star-speckled skies.

Creeping cotton paws,

and scritching deadly claws

ghost toward the jazzy man,

ending his lazy tune, 

with a drowsy purr,

stroking satin fur.