Ain't it true that mean scrappin' dogs

live in that Over-the-Rhine,

yeah scrawny dark scrappin' dogs.

Why just the other night, movin' out a'

there where artists are movin' in and artisans,

gentrify yup yup yuppies right there on Main Street,

yeah right there on Main Street,

yeah movin' up to the suburbs

and a couple a' dogs went at it, took to fightin',

SADIE a stray one artist woman took in over a year back,

now shiny black coat on healthy black mutt,

on a leash, now the fella that shared SADIE held that leash,

his hands full, this bike racer fellow, rides ultramarathons,

makin' a name for himself, on the 11 o'clock news,

rides 20 miles an hour for 24 hours alone,

then there's this other dog,

a stray just bein' takin' in dog--man I know the feeling,

just off the street, a bit raw, stale edges, crusty eyes,

might nip the new hand feedin' it,

or cower away, head low, back bristled

with kinky yellow fur like a smear of sound against its throat..bein' adopted

by the sculptor next door and this german shepherd stray whoa he goes at

SADIE, bitin' snarlin' growling throats raw and smearing the night with

grrrowls

SADIE's on a leash pullin' John in circles.

Yelling artists, John kickin' the stray

mostly kicks glancing this and that,

no solid thuds, Janet in a second hands

Ruth a broom and it's just cause

we've been sweepin' the last six and a

half years dirt out of that third floor walk-up.

And Ruth wallops that scrawny stray with the bristle business end of that

cheap broom, and a yip, tail between his legs walkin' like on shards of glass,

now not so much glass broken as then.

Six months pass. John's havin' a stout at the bar

talkin' about the iditarod mountain bike race in Alaska.

"Would'a won it." He says. "Six goddam flats."

"How'd ya end up?" "Third place. The tires freeze

and slide on the rim rip the valve stems right outa the tubes.

Fixed the first two; didn't know why front tires were flatting.

A guy glued the last one for me. The guy who got second

gave me one of his spares." "How's SADIE?"

"She's in Wyoming with Ruth.

At first she ran with the bulls, moose, elk, and chased the wild turkeys.

SADIE loves rolling in shit.

Moose shit, cow shit, turkey shit, she has to be tied or she'll run with the

bulls."

Thought about how SADIE went from cement sidewalks,

busted glass, parking meters, gas eating cars,

and car tires rotting on street corners,

to a life full of shit chasing wild turkeys.

Steven Paul Lansky copyright 1994

Steve Lansky is

fiction editor of THIS: A Serial Review, where you can find a chapter of his novel JACK ACID. For information regarding THIS: A Serial Review contact Steve by e-mail: slansky@tso.cin.ix.net Wild turkeys appears in an earlier edition of THIS!