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chased a dog down the path

and her man was cold
and hot
blood and steel and sinew and lust
draped around the shoulders
like a soaked towel

and a prize
in the mouth
not moving
but humming
perhaps
humming
a sound penetrating
dry and vast

and her man waltzed on the porch
two step to the radio
poor
a gasping illusion for
suffering
oh whatever that means
a love tossed back and
disappeared

without a leash
saying or begging
perhaps
asking
was it another way
or has it always been
the sweat that pools
that sticks and never leaves
the heavy hand of solemn thought
the cloak and dagger
favored by stagehands and
magicians

was that our song
or just the sound the train
makes as it passes by