Mom named you that. It
Was an adaptation from the name I
Gave you: “Harley Davidson.”
(You purr like a motorcycle).
So now it’s been a year.
I’ve aged one, you
aged seven.
Sometimes I feel like we could call it
“Even.”
Or maybe I’ve got you beat—it’s
Felt like twenty since
Mom left.
You caught that bat last
Summer, didn’t you? You
Didn’t even need the claws I had
Taken out of your forepaws so
You couldn’t rip that high-class
Furniture Mom and I bought:
Poor cement for a crumbling love.
Brought him straight down out of
Mid-studio air, didn’t you?
I don’t know how he got in.
Strong-willed winged rodent.
(Try to say that fast!)
You caught him. Mouse and bird.
All-in-one. I was
Proud of you.
Now you rattle the locked
Night chain when I come home to
The front door, knowing that the
Clacking-clicking of the
Chain on the steel door means the
Portal will soon be open to find
You sitting on the door-side stand
Nudging me with your nose, waiting
For you “Ho dare, kee kat– I
Missed my foofy tee tat ‘n’ it sure is
Good to be home here wif him” hug.
Ups, downs, “the thrill of victory, the
Agony of defeat” and through it
All you’ve been here with your simple,
Uncomplicated love.
St. Peter:
“Thanks,” he said as he got down on his knees to think about what he had just done. “I really can’t remember how it all started but I am trying my best.”
He took a deep drag on the cigarette that Amanda had just thrown to him. He looked at the dog and slowly began to whimper. Morgan cried for a full fifteen minutes while Amanda and the Legendary White Dog merely stared down at thim from the rim of the pit.
“Something,” thought the dog, “But I don’t know what just yet.”