there’s a man on the street
who knows exactly what he wants.
he’s slipped like a cabbage leaf between buildings centuries
he’s acting like a wolf-man again
all teeth and fur and possession
and is lurching lyrical
calling out for a female hound –
who’s long since departed, I expect.
and who can do no more now than scratch his own arse
and wave a pie crust around
like feathers in the wilderness.
is carrying his sex beneath his tail
like a pet mouse
perplexed and mauling his inner trouser leg
taken on a boozy journey through the streets.