My Tale

It's cold. It's biting cold.
People wearing warm clothing
but still shivering.
I don't have any.
I don't need any.

I'm a nuisance to the society.
Foraging is not easy,
I wait at shops and houses
with expectant begging eyes.
On good days, I'm fed;
mostly I'm shoved, kicked or plainly ignored.

I'm infamous for jaywalking.
Nobody taught me how to cross roads.
If I set out to cross them
I'm not sure I'd reach the other side alive.
The other day a bike hit me.
Both of us were badly hurt.
Some good souls took him to a doc.
On me, they hurled expletives and stones.
I'm still limping.
No good souls for me.
The similarity of being alive
doesn't guarantee similar treatment to all.

I like the sexy bitch in the opposite bungalow.
She's a real teaser.
She's always mollycoddled.
I'm mostly heckled.
Don't know what she did right to be in there.
Don't know what I did wrong to be out here.
She's always accompanied by body-guards.
They scare me away.
She likes me too.
Her eyes speak of approval.
She doesn't care for our differences.
But for the guards she'd come running to me.
Man made differences not letting lovers meet.

Freedom is the price she pays for security.
Vagrancy is the price I pay for freedom.
Wonder if she would exchange her security
for my freedom.

This is my tale.
Spoken through the wagging tail.
I'm almighty when spelt backwords.
I'm your friendly street dog.