burnerrrr7

[burnerrrr7]

life of man’s best friend

I wait like a dog, in my isolated space, patient and servile

You left your keys on the table and I restlessly wish I could take them to you

So you would not feel the frustration of a locked door when all you want is to come home

Leave that to me, leave the burden of tracking you, of scurrying the city’s alleyways,

Of the pelting rain or the scorching sun, the ache at the pads of my feet, the gravelly concrete

I, selfishly, take those keys into my maw and go find you

In the gruelling summer heat, I wonder to the music store

I pass the rock and roll section, the lines of plastic covered vinyls looking crisp

The store owner does not wonder about my wagging tail, a jittery anticipation

He smiles and all he wants is to get his cash in, poor and overworked fellow making ends meet

I should be too, but what could a dog do?

Love is my cash and I pay the man, snatching your favorite album hurriedly from the shelf while balancing your keys

Poor and overworked maw making ends meet

You forgot to fill my bowl today

Yesterday too, and a few days before

Perhaps you went to the pet shop to buy my favorite treats

You pick them out so well for me; you know my favorite color to my toys and my collar too

I venture there, and I see my other dog friends there

I see their owners feed them all kinds of meat—plump and red in fancy textured mats

Sometimes I poke around the trash bin at home and among the smell of rot, I still smell you

Have you eaten? It’s not good for humans to go hungry

They stay empty for days and then when they’re at their wit’s end, they go on a spree

And you love to eat well, with your human family, or best friends, or lovers

If you had too much, I would lick the morsels and clean your teeth

Eventually the road splits into a familiar place

Your scent is strongest in her house

Your shoes, your shirt, underwear, headphones, a guitar pick and some lint

I think, I’ve found you, but her scent is there too

My hairs stand and a growl bubbles in my chest, my brain is on attack

Its an awful, putrid mix, her scent clings to yours like bleach and my nose begs for relief

I can’t smell myself on you anymore; when was the last time you came home?

When was the last time you played with me, or took me on a walk?

You haven’t cleaned me and I lick the dirt of my own feet

I wait at the foot of your door

I hear your voices; I wish I could speak human, but wagging my tail will suffice

I know you don’t like when I bark

And the day turns to night, and my tired body tries to fight sleep but can’t

I’ll wait tomorrow, and maybe then, you’ll come back again