my own dog pack
the dogs are waiting to see my next move
they follow me from room to room
from mailbox to porch
from porch to art studio
I am their pied piper
they have a daddy, and they love him
but unless he is beside the refrigerator, they are mine
my own pack; my protectors, my babies
If daddy has the refrigerator open, they leave me temporarily
because they know they can get baloney, chicken and hot dogs
all they have to do is turn on their begging eyes.
He is easy, like me
|