The Dog Smells Like Manure
The dog smells like cow manure,
My feet are black from the blacktop I've been
running around on all day, and the daisy backpack
I purchased solely to run up to Omaha with this weekend
for my granddaughter, Daisy is sitting two inches away from me.
I decided not to make a last minute check of my office,
because I thought it was locked. Um, no.
It was unlocked the entire two days we were gone.
We were so hoping some things would be missing from the house,
but alas, even though it was unlocked, no one took anything
so it's still all there, looking daunting. I had wickedly suggested
throwing a match to the back bedroom, but then I saw forty-nine
of my own paintings going up and I could not do it.
I am reading a book called Dead is the New Black.
If you've had a death recently, please back out of this not-even-a-poem-really
and go see something about billowing waves, and symphonies of symposiums.
Because this book is HILARIOUS to those who have NOT had a recent death.
If you have, please move on. To something more poetry-like. Romantic stuff.
The author has two other books, 'Dead is a state of mind', and 'Dead is so Last Year'.
They are probably hilarious too.
I have to go wash this silly dog
the manure-smell is really getting to me.
Have a happy week everyone!
More later.
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