I saw him crawling by the old court house, 
bigger than I thought they’d be 
the dark evening blended with his coat
but streetlights care not for stealth. 
I had heard tales of their tails but 
even after handling every size possom 
the lankiness of it 
the missing curl, and quick intelligence 
surprised me,
as he turned over every bit of refuse for sustence.
my brother had a pet one once on the farm,
Playful, tender, knowing Bec
the camping blanket still
has her burrowing holes, 3 years of memories.  
There was none in this Vagrant.
My mother’s stories growing up off Byran Station 
and seeing claws and teeth being exchanged with cats
Now carry greater levity as he sleuthed on by. 
He paused; looked back, nose twitching, 
Myself and Partner holding still as he guaged:
to assert his domain
to demand fealty
to take a tithe from these interlopers   
to see if a slice of Goodfellas might appear…

Alas we were not worth more than that glance,
further into the bushes he quested out of sight. 
Carry on Rat King of Lexington, this country mouse
has no desire to meet again.