| |
She was a nice bitch
though ugly as
SIN
Her
frail, flee ridden
mongrel body.
covered in cakes of shit
and open sore pus
At first she had barked
and growled
at me
a stranger
who
tall and white
perhaps looked to her
as a Buddhist Hungry Ghost
from mural painted walls
of old
but over time she relaxed
and as if to take care of
me
started following me on my trips
down dark rat infested streets
where street venders knew me
from the occasional
big drinking
and spending
and fighting
for my patronage
they would call for me
from under corrugated
tin roofs
and give
me
hurt disapproving looks
when I had not been
around
for a couple of days
Realizing the bitch
was with me
they started feeding her
As competition for my
patronage and money
continued
boots changed to bones
for my bitch
and as the nights
turned into months
she started to look
more like the
fine bitch
she was
and less
like a giant rat
till she one night
failed to show
up
I never saw her again
but seeing a dog in the dirt
licking its balls
I remember her.
A toast to you.
You were a nice bitch.
Carsten Thomsen
|
|
User Rating: |
|
9.0
/10
(1 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend