The Purple Rat

The Purple Rat  

        Susan Kohn Green

I have seen many things on the subway;

Couples kissing,  a turtle on a leash

A cockatoo, subway dancers spinning - 

Little girls blowing bubbles - 

But when the door opened

I almost put my hand on a purple rat.

Well, not really purple, but lighter,

maybe a lilac, 

Perched on the handle of a carrying case

Carrying four more - rats - 

Which I didn’t see, but were probably resplendent

In a variety of colors - 

Versus those down below on the tracks - 

Which are primarily gray.

“You poor thing”, I said

But the man in the gaucho hat assured me,

“It’s a natural dye”.

The color was well chosen, the complement of 

The orange eyes of an albino. 

His fur was soft, smooth, as well as lilac, 

It sniffed, whiskers flickering, 

Then began to crawl up my arm. 

Trusting me. Then changed it's mind.

There were obviously some people who did not appreciate

Gismo - that was his name.

One woman flinched as the tattooed owner

Asked if she would like to hold him, 

As he held the rat upside down and stroked behind the ears,

The rat obviously in ecstasy, 

As my poodle is when I rub her tummy;

Eyes closed, almost purring.

A young woman spitted out, 

“That’s disgusting,” 

As she pushed further into the jam-packed car

Getting as far away as possible

But the rat paid no attention, 

Just sat purple-y  on the owner’s shoulder 

As they got off at Forty Second Street

Just like so many others.  Of course.