Coyotes – Isaac Offski

December 21, 2025

Accused a living inna past, I forge
History a “za renaissance” script
To avoid her suspicious, pissed
Ain’t gonna gimme any later look

Miguel Angelico flat on his kidneys
Touching up the touch of life ‘tween
Daddy grey beard & Adam cherié
‘Cause nobody up there happy since
Herds of sheep learnt the alphabet

Who’re you texting?
Nobody. I’m working on something.
Whatcha workin’ on?
Fuck sakes! Nothing!

People are happy with dogs, they
Can love & be loved by their dogs
Unconditionally. Petting the dogs
Loyal, complacent, in sly neglect
Of children, of their active spawn
The children drugged, homeless,
Filthy, babbling, mumbling, alone.
Patrons of salons, get their hair
Done, matching the canine’s coif.
For color, style, bragging rights &
Ultimately, reservations in heaven

What?
I didn’t say anything.
Then what’s so funny?
Nothing!

Just a woman randomly waiting in line for a trendy beverage, tall, lithe, wispy, blonde, & all I can do is watch as she saunters to the rear & enters the gender-neutral; imagining herself alone she pulls down skirt & tights, lowering her shaved & unblemished coital mechanism to the toilet seat; what she doesn’t know is I’ve followed her in there with my mind, the same mind with the same eyes observing a hyperactive samoyed dog some asian dude waiting in line is telling to stop yapping, as if it speaks fluent English, suddenly lurching out of his grip & leaping at the woman exiting the unisex, fresh as a dewdrop dripping daisy, 90 lbs of terror launched airborne for her throat, & her agonized screams & thrashing as the snowy blur of dog clenches its jaws & shakes its head, ripping at the jugular with comically cinematic spatters of blood, the contrast of hot red fluid splashing on its white fur shocking, then, nosing the lifeless corpse, heeding to a sudden raging erect doggy dong, what a surprise, & commencing to violate the dead woman’s slack floppy mouth with slow, lascivious satanic gyrations

She’s looking at me.
What now?
Hey. She nods upward. Isn’t this a Kinks song?
Oh, uh, yeah… “Picture Book”, from The Village Green Preservation Society…
Pretty obscure selection for a Starbucks, dontcha think?
How should I know? Fuck!