When there is movement close to this being
close to me - I am in it
And when the noise stops
there is a silly feeling
a feeling of oddness
and out-of-syncness -
a kind of ashamed self-consciousness

I think neighbors
a few and couple houses up
were having a dog breeding party the other weekend
Loud hip hop music
celebrating the gods of fertility and sensuality
all in subservience
to the one which rules them all
Large aggressive male voices
speaking dreams of
the god of green illusions
which never stick
That thing which sticks
is the sound of the mating dogs
riled up into an even greater frenzy
with the vibe of the party
Snarling yelping squealing barking
dismay and rage and
passionate oppressive submissive release
Somehow Consciousness knows when it’s on display
And somehow
though this person
burned with righteous indignation
at the inhumanity of it all
But who am I?
No other - No different - No one
What do I do?
What have I done?
I am not even writing these words
These words are writing me