08.04.02 dog years
Mostly, rankled, I yell: Dumb dog, how long
before you recognize, I belong here?

He never will, though I'm no stranger to him
than to myself. He barks when I pull up, barks

as I open my front door. I hesitate, but he's sure
that I've come home to the wrong life.

(Susan Cohen)
joe returned from the grocery store with a bouquet of flowers last week. i'm so accustomed to associating them with overwrought holidays, with forlorn men at the supermarket who forgot their anniversaries, that i was confused: did you do something wrong? are you planning to do something? he was just being thoughtful, though, and they're lovely. charles bronson enjoys them as well, and has been digesting and re-presenting them all over the kitchen. one wonders why cats are so keen on greenery - nearly everything is poisonous for them.

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