double like a diplomat

I just saw a good dog take
a dump on command, right
out in public, in the yard

and it was liberating! True,
that's not the kind of move
you want to pull in your
own hat, but trust a dog
for aim.

Command, if you're seated
strictly two rows forward
and doing an impossibly-suave
"literal lyrics" interpretive dance
for the fans behind you, is probably
no place you want to be when you're
far more a big fan of Steven Seagal
booting your own home front door in
backwards, hard to kill and above
the justice - in absolutely no mood
to hear the position's fulfilled, already.

Tell that to him! He's pulling that move
on his own from the deep sea mess,
sending the whole boat crew to the head
for general quarters, sniffing up the bisque
for the whole crowd down South, where

he's

- believe it - supposed to be just exactly
that big. It's no insult to modern special effects
when the man's a duly-elected reality sheriff
or thereabouts. One time, I swore

I spirited Seagal away with false
promises of endless sequels, his
own mawkish drawling and histrionic
blues breaks on the soundtrack - trust me.

It was Wes Craven's new nightmare
on steroids, pork rinds and a huge
dose of down-home pork gravy
for starters. Then Seagal showed
up

demanding as usual
his huge cut of everybody
else's blocks, ducks and circle
kicks, run multiple times
plus backwards and sideways
remix to make easy viewers
think he's super-fast
which

did not go down
so smooth for the big
man, karma-wise.

I don't know. Maybe his best work
is beneath him after all