In our headlights on the way home
dogs circled swirling slowly, gathering,
giving chase -- they barked, daring
the tires. My father-in-law
braked; they drifted to a --
to a stop. When we began moving
again a string pulled them back
to life, vicious life.
He opened a window
and barked back. Three
dogs crumpled under the brunt
of his voice – worn sacks --
six eyes gazing mournfully back
at us. Again they bundled together
implacable.
My wife hissed, cutting the zombie
string of two dogs
who shrank away –
for a floating moment – until yanked
upright, teeth bared.
At a single master’s voice
they cower. When we morph
into a machine they
surge at us with a vigor
made of hate – skinny
wisps of slave meat.
Working states shelter
humans from the
baying – from the IEDs of two-legged beasts
who range -- beyond. But behold the magic
moment: a person emerges from
the hated space ship
with lordly speech
and golden laws! Behold those mobs
as they shatter into
waifs desolate -- tear-streaked --
each quivering with a desperate, loyal love!
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