It pulls me
by the leash
we bought together
some years ago.

Which cuts into
my neck’s thin skin--
            Too tight!
yanking me down alleys,
up cement stairs,
through humid, hot-boy bars.

Even when I see blood
running
down
the cloth,
I refuse to fight back.

That city
trained me
not to disobey.

When I return to bed
on the other side of the world,
there’s lots of sweat
and wonderfully violent dreams
that feel as familiar
as waving goodbye.

Which,
ironically--
           sigh,
my city and I
are incapable of doing.