When the drunk neighbor across the tracks beats his dog again, the primal howling jerks us from a dreamless sleep. Once I used binoculars to see what manner of man yells Shut the fuck up! at a dog.
after the fire—
an acrid stench haloes
the burnt trees
How convenient for this man to have a dog. How practiced they both are at it—the dog on a short chain cowering behind his doghouse, the man descending the back stairs with yet another chain wrapped around his fist.
repeated whistle
of the midnight freight—
headlight bearing down