(after a Ferlinghetti favorite)
The dog trots not freely on the grass
and some she pulls
and some she stops to smell
Kathleen's ground cover
The dog trots and jerks
down the block
and the things she sees
don't matter like what she smells
unless they're a squirrel
or, soon, a firefly
The dog trots unfreely on the walk
tied and clipped and tied to the slow one
except when there's something good to smell
Then the slow one's too fast
The dog trots leashédly by the street
and it's all good, for three or four driveways,
right alongside Ol' Two-Legs
who can hardly believe it
whole yards of the panting canter
no pull, What, did I drop the lead?
and then maybe there's Uncle Bert
(Okay that one'd be more fun if I really let it loose.) (Yeah, that's what she said.)
day x+1, in voice of superhero
I may be Wonder Woman, but my head hurts.
This happens to us, too. I just woke up with it.
Tried acupressure throughout brunch. Why not.
Those women already know I'm weird. All day
the Wonder jaw, the Wonder cheeks, the Wonder
--- don't get me started on necks.
Yes, I know I'm the one who said neck. Let's not
tip everybody off to my Kryptonite. I'm Wonder
Woman, but my powers are sorely limited.
I deflect bullets with jewelry, and speak every language,
and no matter how Golden my lasso
I can't snag the moon, stay close to the runner,
or make this headache go away.