Afterglow (a dog memoir)

I tried to explain to her that what was there was enough. And she was bored with that. My lack of ideas. My lack of desire. I thought I wanted her. She doubted that. Did I? Did I know? Probably not.

I put you in the middle of my life and you never steered me wrong

leave someone asleep in my bed and take you to a schoolyard in my neighborhood and think about what I had left behind. You were always my boat. You brought me space and peace.

I wrote poetry different ever since the advent of you. I got to follow you with my eyes. Take a step behind, next to and in front of you.

Because in fact reality does not occur in sentences and even words are hangers on

that I think of writing as a series of presents

Is this the right place to say that my use of POV, perspective and pronouns is cumulative and historic, performative and not abstract.

I go on walks and stand on the beach in the forest with no one. It feels sad and I remain a nervous person.

How hard it is for a poet to live daily with a merchant’s jokes!

whenever I came home from a trip you’d be a little miffed and wouldn’t look at me but then we’d be on our walk again which was our life. Which felt like my family.