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Posts Tagged ‘dead dog’

My Dead Dog

I can write but I’ve never written poetry. But I think these might be fifty percent brilliant.

 

My Dead Dog

Our little dog was hit by a car and died on the highway.

He was tiny and honey colored with the head of a Labrador

and the body of a dachshund.

The dog was enthusiastic to the extreme, a sweet crack head

but chased cars on the highway so we knew.

We understood a car would kill the dog.

I couldn’t find a shovel so I dug his grave with a pick and hoe.

It was hard.

Sweating, I tried to lift his stiff, furry body.

thirty awkward  pounds.

He was heavier than I expected and too big for my hole.

I tried to cover him with the black soil,

but his tiny golden paw poked through the dirt.

 

When I told my son the dog was dead he smiled

Thinking it was a joke.

 

He wanted to look at the grave, so we did.

Then he stopped smiling. An hour later he rolled off the couch in pain,

limp with heart ache.

 

His heart will heal,

but the dog will not come home.

He’s buried by the creek in a grave too small to hold him.

 

Ass-Hat

In the Wal-Mart parking lot, we had a moment.

You parked next to me, in your cloud colored Lexus and smiled.

I smiled back then turned my head, hoping my hair would fall in front of my face

in a good way.

Not the disheveled, frumpy way.

 

When I looked again you were still smiling at me, while talking  to your phone.

And you were middle aged handsome,

gray and black hair …and smiling at me.

Nice teeth very tan.

Then you got out of your car and strolled with a relaxed athletic gate

to the buggy corral.

Elegantly you snatched one free and pushed it inside.

 

When you were gone I climbed out of my old and tiny car.

I peeped into your Lexus.

Golf bag and clubs in the front seat, obviously your date.

A green Heineken bottle in the cup holder and a white I-pod charger.

You were old but not an idiot.

 

After spending fifty nine dollars and forty minutes I exited Wal-Mart.

Briefly, I wondered if your car was still there.

It was not.

But you’d left the Heineken bottle in the middle of your parking spot,

waiting to do horrific things.

Selfish, lazy asshole.