Friday, April 14, 2006

Fido: A new low

Maybe it was the sunset.
Maybe it was the conjunction of a full moon rising and a rainbow bolting out of the sky and the edges of the waves flashing green.
Maybe it was the flakey singer who played Ben Harper, Leonard Cohen, and Joni Mitchell one after the other and in doing so inserted delicate needles into my heart.
Maybe it was the trippy dose of nutmeg in my latte.
Whatever it was, it made me decide to stalk your dog.
Not you. Of course not you.
never you.
But your dog.
I stalked your dog.

Maybe it was because the coffeeshop was within three blocks of where you park your truck and leave your dog while you work your shift.
Maybe it was the egregiously tall man greeting his tiny asian companion with obvious passion and affection.
Maybe it my heart.
I stalked your dog.

I wanted just one more look into his craggy, doggy, adoring face. His brown eyes. His outrageous breath. I wanted to rap my knuckles on that bucket head one more time. And sniff his dusty fur.
So I slunk into the dark parking lot. I peeked in the windows of all the white trucks. I stalked your dog.
But it must have been your day off.
Because, as usual, I got nothing.
But yes, my darling.
I stalked your dog.


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