THE DOG...

The dog…

Is with us.

I follow him on walks

For him to piss and shit.

It is functional and nervy.

He turns to see the phantom dogs

And other invisible monsters

Blown by the breeze

Or by an errant sound through the trees.

Then, he returns happily to the safety of the hearth.

The dog…

Is wiser than me.

Focused on the elemental—

A world whittled to necessity.

Pleasure found in small smells and sun on the back

More conscious than us, more present,

Than my eternally distracted self—

My sad monkey mind

Gamboling in the ether with little wisdom

But hindsight.

The dog…

Will leave and become a feeling of loss

Like a lost small toe.

Although lost time will be re-found

Days spent in awkward present boredom

While doing nothing was a clumsy relief

From my polluted consciousness.

Now I return to my darting thoughts, volatile as the news…

Keeping me away from being,

Like the dog who is no longer with me

As the souvenir lessons he lived…

The dog…