poem of the day 11.20.12

dobermans

bobby mueller had these

two doberman pinchers

that he’d sick on us

whenever we walked passed his house

you’d hear a whistle from the porch

and then these two salivating beasts

would come tearing across the yard

smacking off the fence

foaming at the mouth

trying to get at you before you knew

what was happening.

no one knew what made bobby do this

he was troubled people said

there were family issues

the kid was just a world class asshole

when he wasn’t sicking the dobermans on us

bobby would ride around in his old man’s car

and throw his garbage at us

mcdonald’s bags full of half-eaten food

the carton of eggs he’d bought at foodland

or WD40 canisters from his backseat

in the winter he throw snowballs at us kids

that were laced with rocks and other sundry items

just to give them an extra sting when they hit

off of your cold and red face

or he’d toss icicles like they were darts

but nothing was as bad as watching those two

goddamned dogs come charging at you

looking at the mueller’s weak fence as it shook

the gray foam on the beasts’  jowls

their yellow fangs snapping at air but hoping for flesh

listening to bobby’s laughter on the porch

as he chain smoked winstons

and asked you if you’d pissed your pants yet

knowing that you probably had before you tore off back home

his slick laughter trailing you

the convenience store and baseball cards be damned

when bobby took his own life on new year’s eve

in that devil car with the motoring running in the garage

a lot of us kids

were more relieved than saddened

as our parents sat us down to make sense of it

it was like a war had ended

peace had somehow been restored

our trivial civilization saved

from strawberry milkshake molotov cocktails

snowballs with rusty razors hidden in their core

or the snap and strangle of those dobermans

who now stayed in the mueller home most of the time

looking out of darkened windows

or when they were in the yard

paced around the muddy landscape

with thick chains around their necks

while all of us emboldened bastard kids

taunted them like paper tough guys

happy to have the vigor and fight

drained from their stealth and murderous bodies

now that their master was gone to heaven

like all of those fat priests said he had.