TO THE DYING CAT IN THE STREET WE COULDN’T SAVE 
 

we were coming from a really bad
birthday party at some ritzy bar
in downtown LA when we saw this
black and white cat in the middle
of the street walking around in circles 

the girl in my car said
aw, is it bleeding? no, it’s bleeding! 

i put on the emergency lights
got out and saw that it was
covered in blood, most of it
coming out of his mouth and belly 

it had been hit so hard by some car
that it had damaged the brain’s basic ability to control its motor skills 

so, what should we do? i said
the girl got out of my car and said
take it over to the bushes! so it
could die in peace in the bush 

not knowing what to do, i picked it
up gently at first, cautious, hoping
nothing will fall out of its stomach
hoping that a foot or its little head
wouldn’t come off 

i took it over to a bush, a stream of
blood falling down on my shoe as
i carried it, set it down and said
it’s ok cat, it’s ok, it’s almost over
and i pet it and i felt bad, lying
to it, feeling its little head and back smooth and wet with blood 

it wasn’t ok 

and it wasn’t almost over and it
would have to die there under a bush
alone, tonight, not knowing your
name, somewhere in los angeles
the brain not dying fast enough
the little heart, fighting, still
feeding the body blood only to have
it spill out onto the cold, dry cement. 
 
 

Luis Rivas lives in the San Fernando Valley, California. He was a telemarketer, construction worker, assistant drug dealer, flower delivery driver, fast food cashier, sales clerk, package handler/zip code sorter. His work has appeared in the following publications, some of which he contributes to regularly: Zygote in My Coffee, Unlikely Stories, The Hold, My Favorite Bullet, Cherry Bleeds, Thieves Jargon and Sex and Guts Magazine (R.I.P.). He dropped out of Los Angeles Valley College where he was studying journalism to work full-time at a porn shop, where he still is. He is currently working on growing a beard.