Toupee

He belonged to all of us
and none of us
the one who took in my child's heart
and took out the competition
with the same savoir faire.
He strutted like he knew his business
flaunting his Mo cut markings,
the Stooges haircut somewhat appropos
for this fella who fought
for every meal without comedic purpose.
Even when he approached us
with his mangled paw,
ripped and useless like a bloody rag
chewed by the neighborhood dog,
he purred and collapsed
into the safety of my child's lap.
She did not see the wounds
nor the pain in his eyes,
just the cat that she met one day
on the way home from school.
And as we left him in the afternoon sun,
this tomcat called out
with such a sadness that I could
only interpret it as a goodbye.