He draws a line with piss
and rubs himself on the backs
of 16 females.

Spectral meccano set assembled
taken apart
again assembled.

Call at his place: not sure
he will answer the door.
(For who'll satisfy him more?)

A cloudburst soon beats his scent
into the soppy ground,
a virus or a virulent prostrate
kills off the alpha in him.

But bitches have been had, money has
murmured past him in streams and
1000 guileless caribou been murdered

all through a line of piss.

Translation: 2003, Peter Nijmeijer