Friday, August 22, 2014

an art form

the dog
is sad when
you're about to leave.
you see it in
his eyes.
he climbs
into your
suitcase,
curling up
against your
beach clothes.
it's just a week
you tell
him, which makes
him roll over
so that you
can scratch
where he likes
to be scratched.
he wags his
tail, letting
his tongue
drop out
into a dog
smile.
he knows
the drill, your
dog.
having trained
him well
in the art of
guilt.

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