Yard Dogs

It was a town where dogs chased

anything that moved. Bikes, cars,

you. People left their gates open

a crack. The dogs knew to wait

until you were upon them before

exploding into carols of snarl.

Frothing, raging, this-chain-isn’t-

going-to-stop-me spasms that’d

end abruptly when you hightailed

it around a corner, ass forward,

legs pinwheeling, the dog behind

you doing whatever it is dogs do

when they laugh to themselves.