The days are spent in the shadows,
away from the daylight customers who hate flies,
who sneer at their very own inadequate children as they act themselves.
The thin dog knows to stay away as the pretenders pretend.

The daylight takes away the people with the flashy clothes,
the wayward guffaws and the empty wallets
as pretenders whisper their pleas to the butcher as they hold their children's greasy hands.
The thin dog salivates as the bones are wrapped up in neat piles.

Evening and night,the dog appears tail wagging,bones protruding,
He licks the drunks rough hands,
he is patted by the swindlers with the silver rings,
they know him,even as they throw half eaten bones to him.

They smile together,
Laugh in the darkness and smoke,
as the butcher listens to their escapades.
The flies dance in the air as goat heads crack and stew is cooked with peppers.

The thin butchers dog dances under their heavy feet,
table shaking as they fight and arm wrestle.
The dog still wags it's tail in the melee,
He knows his master gets his due and always leaves him be where he belongs.


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