Dust covered bible, unquestionably unreliable,
Irrefutably undesirable,
And each seems just the same.
If I want them not to find me,
It’s just that they remind me of so many,
Hound dogs in the rain.
Calling out for me to follow,
Down a primrose path,
As if I’d be content to wallow,
In their aftermath.
Shallow. Eyes glazed. All dazed. All day.
All space, ear to ear…
That’s what I fear.
Each day. Each vain.
Each seems just the same,
Until it has become decidedly clear.
I don’t wish for them to find me,
I don’t trust them there behind me,
Playing such a preposterous game.
If I look up and ask, “Why me?”,
It’s just that they remind me of so many,
Hound dogs in the rain.