For the Pigs in Such Fine Houses
Once Upon a WanderingWolf did huff and puff,Sticks and straw blunderingBricks didn't budge,Chinny Chin Chin"God Damn!"Once upon a wondering,Thought to climb up the sideAnd down,He'll huff and puff,"Hell no!"Wolf went home, tail held high,Into the sty of his life.Stumbles on crooked stepStubs toe on soldierAnd howls.Little cubs come running.Screaming "Daddy! Daddy!""Sweet little fuckers."Under his breath and away from the living roomWhere the witch doctorFinishes his crossword puzzle,Picking at his teeth with a bone,And humming to the ring-a-ding dingFingerings of his devoted follower,The uncle who fears the Devil on hisShoulder that wags and brushesThe spine with temptings and such.He composes an atonal effronteryOn his finger piano lifted from thrift,Makes up the magic
words as he goes along.Not a quiet moment in
the house.The pots stew a meager thing, and she waited on him like
always. The newest arrival fidgets in
the high chair, overlooking the lopsided linoleum chamber. He picks him up and chuckles. "He's like some Butterball turkey that fell
into a hairnet." She crosses her arms, batters a lash.He walks on over,
whispers"Show me those teeth.""I should rip your throat
out for having the nerve.""She huffs and she puffs.""And she'll knock your
socks off. Feed the baby."The table is set.Match.So they eat and drink
together.The Satanic Swing
still rings in the furbished hole.It's a house united
and conquering still.