King Leopold of Vold once ruled
that portion of our Glyndon jungle
where the grass was not quite wild
and the river didn’t reach.
We kept a chain around his golden
neck for his own good, we said,
but when he grumbled now and then
we’d let him off the leash.
I want what Leo wanted then,
to have the lion’s share of life,
to run along the jungle’s edge,
to chase what I desire.
But in a dog’s life, just a taste
of freedom turns into an urge
to hit the roads and try to bite
the tires off of cars.
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