This one's about Maundy Thursday and the here and now - about longing, aching to be my dog for the rest of my life and a week, as the familiar, scrambled-up, jigsaw-brained questions rise again inside and lead me toward the hole that is all I cannot know to be swallowed up for nothing by everything; while she lies on the rug scratching, easily off, her fleas, and wagging away the here and now. About the gone for, dirt-shoddy pack of six and five year-old redneck kids in the seven-eleven at twelve o'clock, as I watch from the darkness outside and die of pity for them and for our mankind; while they buy a pack of 45-cent gum and loudly slurp away all that remains of their monthly coke icees, and the joys of the here and now. |