Last August,
the first day of summer here
the Dog and I bought a red convertible
and rode to the river
nearer the sea.
Another bonehead move.
***
Below the falls,
we bob for minnows
and bet MilkBones.
The dog is much quicker than I
but he hates to get his whiskers wet.
Bite me.
***
The top down, of course,
heads stuck out the window,
we drive to the big city,
to Northwierd Trendythird Street, and
troll for Jewish girls with poodle haircuts.
Smells like bone spirit.
***
We wear dark glasses
and pretend to be famous actors
playing ourselves in a television series
about a canine superhero
and his faithful human companion.
No bones about it.
***
I am Rin Tin Tin on a bad hair day,
the Dog says, ignoring a Chihuahua
in heat and polkadot toreador pants.
You can be any cowboy you want.
Call me Tonto, I tell him.
