Eros the Loony Tune

Remember the Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner cartoons from years ago?
It didn't require the analysis of a child's mind to gender identify the coyote as masculine, what with his eternal tampering with ACME gadgetry--metaphorical of a stereotypical garage-rat male tinkerer--to capture and, we imagined, devour the sonically-gifted desert bird.
And the Roadrunner's gendered identity? Perhaps it's just me, but as a child I'd always see the the Roadrunner as the feminine half of the deal. Long legs, feathery plumage reminiscent of a feather stuck in a woman's hat or maybe an exaggeration of a woman's haute couture hairdo--and, ah yes, the fact of the coyote's endless and determined chase after her, to devour her, consume her.
Something erotic here?
If "eros is lack," as Anne Carson says in Eros the Bittersweet, yes, there is; the coyote is forever lacking in his capturing the Roadrunner.
Until, that is, the fateful episode where Wile E. finally does manage the impossible and captures the bird. Maybe you remember this. And if you do, what does the coyote do? Mute, ears downcast, appearing disappointed, he simply reveals a sign with the words: (paraphrase) WELL, I'VE FINALLY CAUGHT HIM. NOW WHAT DO I DO?
(Yes, I know, the sign reads "HIM," but I still see the Roadrunner as a female image, for the sake of this argument, anyway, so I'll just go against the gender intentions of Chuck Jones, Friz Freleng, and Warner Brothers in general--not to mention foregoing any homosexual readings of the Loony Tunes canon.)
Carson, interpreting the Greek poets, writes "Who ever desires what is not gone? No one." For Wile E. Coyote, this is truth; the Roadrunner is no longer gone from him, and the coyote experiences the "[impossibility] for him to have what he wants if, as soon as it"--the Roadrunner--"is had, it is no longer wanting." All the coyote's desires of devouring, consuming the Roadrunner, upon capturing the bird, disappear down a Dickinsonian drain, where we might expect the coyote to break his silence and recite Emily D.'s "I Had Been Hungry":
So I found
that hunger was a way
of persons outside windows
that entering takes away.
Wile E. Coyote "had been hungry," too. Then he got what he wanted; he found himself no longer "outside windows." Eros is lack.
(A cartoon coyote reciting Dickinson as he wields his NOW WHAT DO I DO? sign? There's a project for an enterprising YouTuber!)
I'll here bring up the film Zodiac. I saw it the other day--no, I'm not crazy for serial-killer flicks, I just find Fincher's work interesting, if often uneven. Seeing it, with Carson's Eros in my head, I couldn't help seeing also the eros--where "love and hate converge"--of the police chase, the inherent love/hate duality of the chase, its glukupikron, its "sweetbitter"-ness--the love of the chase, the enmity for the reason of the chase.
This is something we can easily superimpose over Wile E. Coyote, can't we?
Carson: "A space must be maintained or desire ends."
Wile E. found this out.
And the police did, too--the desire, the "space" separating what is known and what is not, to know the killer's identity is eternal.
Eternal enough to make a film from this desire.
If only they'd run a Roadrunner cartoon before it.