Oscar, who’s a good boy?
Who licks my face
and wins the race?
Who eats up all my chocolate
before having the latte,
and who the fuck barks for no reason,
other than it’s the fucking season?
Oh, Oscar, when will you be mine?
It seems like there’s so much time
that has to pass between now and then,
and time and time again
all I can think of is
and smiley jaws,
the crooked teeth of love and
oh, the smell of piss.