Again I step forth
through this nauseating network
of boulevards and by-streets,
a stray dog prone to bitch fits –
I am the finest example
of wildlife in the asphalt jungle.
All bite busy biting through bark
and with an outlook so dark,
I often can’t see
that I’m biting up the wrong tree.
Enter a voice sister with reason,
on a mission to place the last piece on
and set down her foot –
as to kindly remind me that I’m gnawing on wood.
(So I’ll drink, and I’ll smoke, and I’ll curse, and I’ll take a deep breath,
for endurance is something that spooks and blue devils respect.)