Two tiny lizards making love on the pee pad. The pads are for her. My K-9 companion. She always has to go. A dark blue fly swatter leans against my makeshift desk. The dull roar of the fan. I observe the lizard’s subtle movements. Does God watch us? My companion is asleep on her lifted bed, oblivious to our visitors. I stand, fly swatter in hand. They lay motionless now, yet still remain as one. The blue fly swatter extends, pokes at the pad. Undisturbed. I think of you. That brief moment after. Together. Satisfied. The smaller of the two scurries out. He remains, chewing at the pee pad. Is it frustration? Is he still holding on to this moment? His jaw stops. He’s released. He’s gone. Soon thereafter, came the wasp. Buzzing and drifting curiously. He lands. On that gate that keeps my companion from wandering. I stand, fly swatter in hand. DONG! My companion scrambles to the floor. Spinning, spinning, As the wasp falls. Life shatters in an instant.
I like this little glimpse into your day and how you keep tying it all back to your dog
sometimes I wonder if poetry is the purity of how we think, and all this extra writing stuff is cognition getting in the way