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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Obedience Class”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
At 2 a.m. you ping my phone— a tennis ball dropped at my feet. By dawn your footsteps coin the tiles, a leash coiled on the hook. When I speak, you slip the hedge— nothing but bin-lids and birds. Truth does its rounds like the post van; you sniff the tyres, never bite. You nose along the party table, salt-dusted face, a crumb halo. You know the hinge-sigh of my front door, what it whispers down the hall. Promise sits warm in my palm, a loop of nylon primed to cinch. Meet me straight, I say to the air, to the shadow wagging under your eyes. I hear it—my own whistle. It’s me I’m training to heel, my rib-drum tugs the lead, ready to chase any flashing lie. Keys click. The porch light hums. No commands now. Only the hook by the door, moonlight coining the tiles, and the leash hanging in it— a quiet O, catching the moths.
Lyrics
You fetch my midnight texts Sit pretty, wait for next You beg for morning walks Then vanish when I talk You circle truth like mail You sniff, you set the trail Keys by door Paws on floor Say you swore Then want more Heel, my heart, heel Real or not, real You guard the party snacks You nap on sorry tracks You chase the flashing lies Tail wag behind your eyes You learn my front door creaks Then roam for days, no speaks Meet me straight No delay If you stay Say you’ll stay Heel, my heart, heel Real or not, real Sit, stay Don’t stray One day We play Heel, my heart, heel Real or not, real Keys click, porch light peels Good boy, make it real
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