A mixed-breed dog
always following me
his father was an upholsterer
but he had another one
with a fancy collar around his neck
humping on bitches
on the crooked tracks
of railway stations.
he Inherited his father's coat
but not his royalty
for his father did not have that
but his mother had plenty
as she was one of those
begging for food over
somebody's door.
he lays in the sun
always covered with dirt.
he can shit on your shoes
as you're walking by
but he can greet you with a smile
he has no owner
but he's not a cat.
he's always in his place
but old women with fat asses
love him
when he takes a shower
and wins Bullock's county award
for best looking dog.
I think of my flesh
and he thinks beyond that
as if he knows
it doesn't belong to him
but to a world where skin
dissolves into it's tiny cracks
like mortar between bricks.
I saw him the other day
soaked in blood
and in dignity
fighting a stray dog over
a stolen bone
and I wondered
how many people
would give up their dignity
when you throw them
a bone.
