Inner Pig Dog

In einem gelben Wald - In a yellow Wood 40 x 40 cm acryl painting by Karin Goeppert

INNERER SCHWEINEHUND:

which means “inner pig dog” in good English.

Now, everybody has an inner pig dog

and this creature is a mongrel breed

part couch potato, part psychopath,

part sexual pervert, part greedy slob

of abysmally disgusting, insatiable appetites,

selfish, let’s everyone down, always late—

fucker’s never there when you need him— 

doesn’t replace the TP roll, has desires so dark

it would be better not to shine a light on them.

When it wags its barbed tail and snorts and scratches

at your insides you might be tempted to open up

and let the inner pig dog out for a romp. A child has

dropped a banknote on the sidewalk in front of you

and hasn’t noticed and your IPD is salivating at the

thought of all the curry sausages with French fries

soaked in sauce you can buy with the child’s money, 

the porn videos, case of beer, terminally stupid tabloid  

you roll up and stick in your back pocket, the riveting

conversation with a tattooed bar slut after toasting

in a sun studio cylinder for twenty minutes coming

out the color of a Florida orange. We all have

those primary IPD moments in our lives: such as the time

I was boxing Roy Slicker in his back yard; poor Roy, helpless,

more a pusher than a puncher, came in swinging with all

the ferocity of a girl scout insisting you buy her cookies,

eyes closed, exposed, and I slammed the side

of his head with a haymaker of a counter-punch

even though I could have just danced away. Worse,

I’d pretended I was in trouble, leaning

back against a tree trunk, seeming to

cover up, thus inviting his futile attack.

Somewhere hot, the Demiurge, talent scout

in love with unfair fights, exploitation, all the imbalances

and excesses hard-wired into violent turbulent life,

put a pencil tip to his lips, chuckled, then made an entry

in his Black Ledger. I was on the team now, rising in the depth chart.

Meanwhile, I bent over Roy and fanned him with the Chronicle

sports section, worried, but not knowing my first K.O. was also my last.  

Black Dog - Led Zeppelin