Dances with Dogs
It is barely six a.m.,
and he dons his coat and boots
in silence. He tries, but
the dogs are not having
the silence.
and he dons his coat and boots
in silence. He tries, but
the dogs are not having
the silence.
He’s a sidewalk rhythmic gymnast,
wielding leashes wildly.
Like computer-cable spaghetti,
they intertwine
and twist and tango.
There is no open field,
where a pack can run free.
The lots are edged with curbs.
There are doggy-bag dispensers
in the park.
where a pack can run free.
The lots are edged with curbs.
There are doggy-bag dispensers
in the park.
He dances with dogs,
hands indisposed.
They give hesitant waves
come rainy day or shine.
Neighbors cross the street,
but smile when they see him,hands indisposed.
and, sometimes, a sympathetic
greeting, knowing that
he has himself a handful
or two.Missing the Last Train
The last train came and went,
and I waited for you. I must have
missed your phone call
last night. I waited,
and the human shadows
dispersed. I was sleeping
on the subway bench all night.
The morning air turned cool,
and the damp was like a kiss
to wake me.
The first train came and went,
and your smile is like the sun.
"Dances with Dogs" and "Missing the Last Train" are published on at 3rd Wednesday online and will be included in the Spring 2022 print issue of 3rd Wednesday. Thanks for reading!
Eric
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