The Cat on my Roof (Tom Tom)

The cat on my roof
Is whining for something
And I'll be damned
If the hell I know what.

I've just put out some chunks
(Corte Ingles nothing less)
But still there seems something not got.

It has water and milk
And some dirt for its dung
And the bichos
That wander the night
But still it is seeking
Some screech-song unsung
Some old matter that needs putting right.

Perhaps it's the sisters
DueƱa Doris took off
When they were cute
Little kittens, all black
This one hissed it far more
And showed terrified teeth
And a testerone arch to its back.

For a moment it sits
Like a sphynx on a mat
Then lifts a silly straight leg for a lick
Then back on the prowl
On the restless round search
For - as I say, I'll be damned If the hell I know what.

I throw a spent smoke
The beast tracks it down
I throw a rolled sock
For a cod.

It killes it a bit
Then carries it off
Woolly flesh
To its clawed, tawny god.

Does it know that it's Spanish?
Does it think it's a cat?
Of course not It's lacking the thumbs -
But life form it is
A skirmish of gods
Just not marching
To mystical drums.

Not like me
I'm a human
I've got the idea
I've got transmuted
Gold in my pot
And a God who is watching
And maybe throws me a sock
Amused I don't seem to know what.