you still love
and miss your
old dog, moe,
so you go out
and get another
dog. it's time.
you are way overdue
in the i need
to care and think
about something
other than me
department. so
you get another
red daschund,
short haired,
and brown eyed,
he's as lively
as a hot wire
fallen in a wind
storm. you
put him in your
lap as you drive
home from pet
smart and he curls
up and begins to
chew a hole in
your new leather
coat. he licks
the rim of your
coffee cup.
he is excited
to be with you,
to be anywhere
but in a cage,
and he pees all
over your leg.
you make a sudden
u-turn and go
back. you're not
quite ready for
this kind of
love again.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
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3 comments:
There's only one Moe.
You have to find your next pet serendipitously, like Love...
i could say the style, the verbage, the number of words in each line is perfect...but i'd be blowing smoke up your chimney. i just like the poem and know darn well it is about more than just your dog named moe. you dog!
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