Railing

A fence, my sweet!—why, what’s a fence?—
a mere eight feet of paling wood.
It’s nothing but—you smell so good—
a minor inconvenience—
I’ve bested worse. The other day
I beat a pit bull and his four,
no, seven cronies, left ’em sore
and yelping. Honest. Look this way—
just sniff me! Don’t I drive you wild?
Come on! Ignore these other guys!
I’m strongest. Best. I love your eyes;
they’re brown like liver. Bear my child!
We’re spar-crossed lovers, you and I.
I wish this fence weren’t quite so high.