Dogmeat

Fausto Barrett

That’s probably not true;
Tell me, are you a bad fish, too?
Hate us ‘cause we’re beautiful,
Threatened by a blind terrorism scourge,
He said he believed it would do.
The unit itself may be,
The swamp is always going to be extensive,
Work which is imaginative.
After a few aberrant decades,
Dyed the color of burnt bread;
Riding armored afraid of assault.
It says nothing to me about my life,
Wackos everywhere,
A plague of madness,
That was the miscalculation of my life.
Idiosyncrasies that were considered snobbish;
In the folds of two enormous serpents,
I regularly made a stopover in Freiburg.