I Follow

I follow the dog down
the steep steps
of my apartment.
He's weary, and shakes.
He's hungry again.
I watch his thin shadow
in the streetlight on snow
that lies along the park.
There are other dogs,
but he doesn't mind them
anymore. His bark
is scratchy. I think about
the time I nearly gave
him away. The time
he chewed my new brown
shoes, my umbrella,
my hat and gloves. How
I yelled his name,
and cursed him,
chased him with a broom.
Now I watch him sit
and look at me with watery
eyes, his tail wagging
gently with something
like happiness
in the cold autumn air.
It's less about me now.