there’s a bitch in heat up the road
and i can’t keep my damned hound dog
at the damned house.
it ain’t a metaphor.
it’s a pitiful pain in the ass.
she’s whimpering and bleeding
and begging for the most primal contact
and i’m slipping through the slick weeds
to steal away her suitor.
before daybreak.
by force.
the chain link between them
don’t keep him from the scent of her

and i swear he’d break his neck
for a chance to get all tangled up again.