Bark

Eyes shining like the yellow moon,
you looked.

Head out the car window,
ears rolled back by the wind,
like curtains that wouldn’t stay tied,
slapping at the sides of your head.

Your tongue dragged through the air,
slaver running down its pink crease,
to hurtle off fleshy tip.

Some spittle already frothing around your collar
as it flew back to hit the scruff of your neck,
and mat your fur.

You looked,
at thighs tugging at spandex seams,
at breasts that jostled and pulled,
your yellow moon eyes,
behind a polyester sports bra.

Your man tried to pull you back from the window,
by the collar that bound you to his hand,
to the inside.

But you still managed a bark,

and that low aching whine at what wasn’t yours.
You looked with those frenetic
yellow moon eyes,
Barked,
“Hey, girlfriend, can I take you home?”
And then you were gone.