dog park

I sit and read the newspaper over
and over again.

my phone rings, it's my girlfriend,
"how're you?"

"I'm ok."

"'Ok?'"

"I'm in bed."

"it's past noon. go for a walk or something . . . "

"alright . . ."

* * *

the dogs howl and bark
and beg over
and over again.

something in the air
a remembrance of last november
has me in a dry spell.

happy smiles, happy eyes,
eyes of brown and green and blue,
all over the fucking park.

"SPOT!" whistle "SPOT!"

dog obeys and
something in the air
has me in a dry spell.

I look up to the clouds from this
old bench, black,
and close my eyes.

god, I thought, if only you
called on me as you call on them,
those successful fucks, those
poets off the old block, those
those those
fucking fakers with their happy smiles
and happy blue eyes.

I'm going to stop now
as I'm afraid
I'll start to sound bitter
and I'm far from it.