“The cool black cat, on the side of the street sat, and no, there was no hat involved” Gun Roswell

The Cool Cat

A blackest of cats, on the busy street corner, calmly sat
He had nothing better to do, but on his furry ass sit and chew
The yellow eyes, staring, glaring, all the passersby, spied
It looked so scary, that some of them even started to cry
Luring the cat into some kind of a food reduced trap
Wasn’t an option, because this animal was no ordinary concoction
Of fur and feline DNA, such you might find eating it’s pray
Like a mouse or other type of pest, making the meal a fest
But no, this was a spy, sent from another place so high
It would take a spaceship just to reach there, in the stratosphere
The alien cat, still in disguise, kept on spying
The unsuspecting hooman race, sitting there, on his place
Watching, taking notes, of those poor people dragging their totes
And also making sure, they would stay put without allure
To venture out there, into the great wild space without fear
At least, not without some fish and catnip as a gift
If ever they would the alien cats home planet reach!