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Dirge of a maggot dog-

Last you saw me I was holding a stick. 

I was holding in my chest. 

Well, you would have seen me if you were here. But you were not. Funny thing is you probably don't even know who I am. Man. Woman. A little child with predestined penis envy. Lo, I am but a maggot dog. 

The maggot dog tried to wag it's tail, knowing someone was close.

Silly maggot dog. You can't move.

What would you know? You are only a voice in someone's head at least I have a tail. 

The pine sap road patches.  Sweet smelling smeared on breakfast toast. At least that's what I was told.  Told by Stink Toe Joe. He's such an asshole. I really hope he gets hit by a bus. 

Fill the fucking hole. He told me. 

Fill your fucking hole. I nodded back. 

I am not the maggot dog. The maggot dog is in that ditch. I am just another voice. Empty and filled with the smacks and pops of spit stuck to the tongue.  I fill the holes in the road like a dentist that part times birthing cattle. I use a shovel. I use some orange cones. I fill the holes when there are holes to fill. There are always holes to fill.  Don't expect much more of me. 

With that, another shovel of shit scraped out of a big bucket with a yellow stripe held in mid-air by the will of the gods of travel and ass-fault. Ass-fault roads paved with shit. The road maker drops a load in a hole the size of his head. He grunts and slaps his tool down smacking the shitty patty flat. 

How's that feel Stick Dick Joe? My life for a nice pair of shoes. Something without so many goddamned laces. I see the dog lying in the ditch. There is an envy I have for that maggot dog. Then I wonder if it was fast, a quick blow to the head, like looking at the face of Chrome God.  Or was it a hip-check, just enough to send it back into the ditch, maybe drinking road tea draining down to drink.


Either way it's dead now, more than I can answer to. A solid answer yes or no. 

You alive? 

No, sir.

Dead as a shotgun orgasm in the back of my throat answers the maggot dog. I'm sure a maggot dog would say that. You can think about these things a lot when all you do is fill holes for Ass Crack Joe.  Big man with a name on your truck. 

The two men and their floating barrel of tar drift off into the distance.  It is nice being at the curve in a road, it makes it easy to see in two directions without having to turn your head too far.  This is good for a maggot dog.

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