I was a dog in a past life. Really.
I’ll be walking down the street
and dogs will do a sort of double take.
Like, Hey, I know him. – William H. Macy
Slowly walking the big dog in the early morning,
I begin to see why it’s so late in America.
A working mother in a dirty foreign car speeds
right through the STOP sign.
Barely even slows as her child hops out.
Love you!
Love you, too.
Dog lifts his right leg to leave a message on a tall weed.
Another kid, fatter, takes a short cut
through some old man’s front yard
rather than walk an extra hundred feet.
We’re sniffing a bush –
Rudy The Long-Haired Dachshund was here already.
I watch a large SUV pull out of its driveway
and tote a teenage boy to the school,
which you can also see right up the road.
The big dog thinks for a moment,
then pisses back a lengthy retort
as befits his stature.
The SUV returns to the driveway
before the dog has finished his business.
A bleached blonde in a blue bathrobe jumps out,
just as a bob-tail bunny races across the road.
The big dog and I keep walking.
Woodrow Wilson said,
“If a dog will not come to you
after having looked you in the face,
you should go home
and examine your conscience.”
I think you’re good, kid.