Treppenwolf

If I were a dog,
My life would be a detestable, flea-ridden mangy mess
Lost in metal scraps and garbage cans and unwinnable fights over the snake-infested grassy lot
In the side street across the cafeteria where I lost my leg.
A downhill run from the church to the kennel, familiar, uneventful -
Were it not for the butcher who leapt in my way,
Spittle flying, knife thirsting
For the taste of my testicles in blood broth and soup (with barbecued heel on the side).
A leg's a fair trade for a hide.

If I were a dog,
This would be my life, horrible horrible life.
But it would be all the life I'd have lived
So I guess it'd be okay.
For then I wouldn't have lived and lost;
'Cause I wouldn't have lived at all.