Curiosity runs through these veins.

It’s what put my brother in prison

And why my parents are divorced.

Today, I’m bleeding chaos

My curiosity drifts about me.

All the way down the street

To that old hideous shack

That’s been collecting termites and rumors

For as long as I can remember.

So I strut down the street

Whiskey bottle in hand

A flashlight in the other.

A simple kick from my chicken legs

knocks down the boarded window.

I laugh to myself.

Before crawling inside I take a chug of whiskey.

I duck through the window and step in.

It’s dusty as hell.

And smells like shit from years Florida humidity

Marinating in the walls and leftover furniture.

I wander room to room. Nothing special.

Nothing spooky.

Maybe it was the liquid courage.

But there was a pile of old photos on the table.

Two women and a German Shepherd were the subjects of the various pictures.

The women clearly were in love.

I stood there wondering.

Why’d they leave these precious photos?

Where did they go?

Is the dog okay?

I mostly wonder about the dog.

I really love dogs.

Another swig of whiskey

And I’m bored of this place.

I really don’t care enough

to ask people in town questions

About the lesbians at the end of the street.

I just hope they are happy.

I hope that dog is being good.

I go out the same way I came in.

It felt harder to crawl out the window this time

Than it did the first.

I walk back towards my house

Suddenly craving a woman’s sensual touch.