Short History of Pets
Girl had a dog that bit people.
Bit the bread lady and the girl
from up the street. Bit the gas man.
Girl came home one day
and the dog was gone.
Asked mother and father
where the dog went.
They told her they took the dog
to the Vet and the Vet found
a new home for the dog.
The girl missed the dog but thought
of the dog in her new yard, some new
children. Girl knew the dog
was dead. Saw you could believe
two things at once.
Dog is alive. Dog is dead.
Mother and father sleep
in their bed, and daughter sits up
thinking of the dog happy
in her new home.
She sees how important the story
she tells herself is.
It's a good story.
Girl remembers the dog's
pink tongue. Thinks of that tongue
licking a new palm
in a new home. Dog under the table
eating what the new kids
won't eat. It's an easy thing.
You take a bite of food,
then wipe your mouth
with your napkin.
You stick the food in the napkin.
Then put your hand
in your lap, politely.
Open the napkin for the dog.
Let the dog eat what gags you.
*************************************
Meter Maid
We dreamed God would be like that.
Ticket master. Meter Maid. Dominatrix.
God with a gun in her hand. Ruler. Staff. Belt.
Gives you the ticket at your own back door.
Won’t stop writing it though you’re standing right there.
Though you’re pleading and begging. Rules is rules.
She writes it because she started to and she can’t stop
once she started. It’s that kind of God we’ve got in mind.
Like a rock rolling down hill. Once it starts, it can’t stop.
A God with standards. A true God. Good to her word.
Flies the helicopter up and down the neighborhood
at 3 a.m., searchlight shining down alley by alley
looking for one of us, but then what? The light
falls on you and you stop. You stand still. You’ve been
found and you like it. There you are in the great
circle of light. We want to be caught. That sort of God.
Tells you, stop right where you are, and you do.
****************************************
Comfort Zone
Who meant to stay here this long? Anywhere. This job. This
comfort zone as my colleague calls it. Tells me she’s growing
her hair a bit to get out of her comfort zone. Fluer de lis.
Montezuma sounding on the computer-generated carillon,
its loud speaker perched on top of the concrete bunker
of building C, and the woman yesterday opening the bathroom door
with her hands carefully gloved in brown paper towels.
Who thought we could live this long? Get this worried. Be this
stupid. Go square like this. I meant to stay out of it. Janis
downstairs 30 years after her death begging some bad boy
to take another piece of her heart, and sort of buzzed, I go down,
I dance and shout with her. You know you got it, if it makes
you feel good I sing word for word, the dance steps
perfect if you can call my kind of dancing, dancing.
