Poem#109

A stray black dog,  cast out into the west Texas night,

approached me sidelong, feigning a sniff of the ground as I stood with a scotch and topo chico on an agate sidewalk, full of thanksgiving and wondering why we carry on when logic says we should lay down and let the world till us under.

I pet her or his (gender a blur of fur wrapped in shadow),  back, stroked briefly the head, feeling a mat of thorny grass entrenched in my ronin freind’s unwashed coat, in place of a collar and tag.

We exchanged this moment, passed something between us if not just this poem, then perhaps a brief moment of solidarity in a world trying to run us over. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s