The lone dog outside our house
Sleeps oblivious to cars driving by
And a street lamp, like a tungsten moon,
Glows from her vantage point
While pedestrians walk by, not knowing
What is happening in our home,
While my wife and me, seated on a 8 by 7 feet bed,
Await, oblivious to passers-by, a lone dog,
And to a streak of energy that is building up
Inside us, that pledges to make the benign, malignant.
And unlike dogs, we don’t sniff each others bottoms,
We make a pact with our goldfish lips,
A pact that tells “you are invited” to a flesh,
To a tradition of the marriage bed
That can only make funny noises,
And still calls it, a musical score.
