Sheep follow because

they know no better.

They graze into sleepy fatness.

They are fleeced naked

by keen razors and groping hands.

Without dignity and spark,

They shuffle in grey muddy fields

under watchful eyes and

before the jowls of herding dogs.

They are tame, slavish creatures

whose young fall to pieces

upon the butcher's block.

who tended his flock in daily routine.

And all around him in similar fields

were other shepherds

minding their own.

He was the foreman, and it was dull work.

So he decided to liven things up -

just for kicks, see?

"Wolf! Wolf!" He cried.

"Bloody murder! Help me!"

The other shepherds came running

with hatchets and muskets,

because those who lead stick together

as much as those who follow.

Of course they arrive

to find him rolling on the ground

holding his sides and

crying with laughter,

surrounded by

placid black sheepish faces.

The shepherds boxed his ears

and went away grumbling,

but the sheep who saw all

said nothing and

the sheep followed him, still.

The next day passed as before.

And the shepherd boy could not

stand the sight of

those tired dark faces:

dingy, homeless, matted wools,

tatterdemalion.

"Wolf! Wolf!" He cried

"I am being devoured! Help me, I am undone!"

He laid it on thick,

and this time they came

with torches and pitchforks,

with nooses and crosses,

with bullets and fire hoses.

Of course the other shepherds arrived

to find him giddy

and convulsing hysterically,

holding his sides

and surrounded by

silent, sullen, black faces.

The shepherds thrashed him good

and went away angry,

but the sheep who saw all

held their tongues and

looked to each other meaningfully.

It was later, on the subway,

rushing through dank sooty tunnels

in flickering grey metal boxcars

that the boy did truly see the Wolf.

It crowded in through the closing doors

with heated breath

and eyes like coals.

The commuters parted away from it

and kept their eyes in their

puzzles and novels.

"Wolf! Wolf!" the boy cried, as

the train rocketed through

the city's dark heart.

But there were no more fields nearby,

and no more helping hands willing

to come forth.

Closer it crept, lolling its tongue.

The boy cried and he wailed while

the wheels squealed on rails.

The grinning wolf joined him in howling

before digging into the meat

up to its elbows.

It stood up, red, and

lewdly licked the jaw

of a sheep-headed girl.

While on the floor the shepherd boy turned,

holding in his sides,

surrounded by

dim, closed faces

that would not meet his gaze.