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 rat.-

A purple rat.

Well, not really purple, but lighter,

Maybe  -  lilac, 

Perched on the handle of a 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 - 

Who 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, 

It sniffed, whiskers flickering, 

He began to crawl up my arm - trusting

Then down again.

There were obviously some people who did not appreciate Gismo

Gismo  - that was his name.

One woman flinched as the tattooed owner

Asked if she would like to hold him, 

As he held Gismo upside down

And stroked behind the purple ears,

The rat in obvious ecstasy, 

As is my poodle when I rub her tummy;

Eyes closed, almost purring.

But

A young woman pushed further into the jam-packed car

Getting as far away as possible

Spitting out, 

“That’s disgusting,” 

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.