Fell led the band, his right arm
thrusting the baton in
He’d seen a dog walker,
a pooch up on two feet, that day,
and it had stuck with him,
struck him as a bit off, that
there’d been no jacket to go with
its shirt and tie.
He figured it was proselytizing –
they did that, time to time.
Hoping for the occasional sad,
lonely old lady
to answer the door.
“Howdy. Howdy,” they’d bark,
right before sinking their teeth into her face.
His arm was moving
up and down again,
in and out
“Howdy!” he was shouting – mouth speckled with foam.
“Howdy!” knowing it was time to put him down.