Original Felony

Every morning
the dogs inside my neighbors fence
accuse me of trespassing.
On the surface I laugh but know
that animals can't be wrong.

The police are stalking me
like spiders near my house.
They had scraped tiny paint samples
from my car.

Fettered as they probe,
inside my outrage I nod.
Crime is like a dark looming
choice. I crave, I fear
the fire and ice, the real place,
with the strong men
who can take my breath.