Maybe everyone is in love with that face
Drawn in by the
internal vortex sweetly begging,
with big Bambi eyes,
"Please, love me."
When I was 16, my mother told me
"You can't save every stray."
Yet, that's just what I've done
for the two decades that followed.
Now, a happy puppy, leash in mouth,
happy tail wagging, waiting for a pat,
happy tail wagging, waiting for a pat,
gamboling behind busy boys.
Boys too busy with themselves
but with time
to pluck feathers off an angel
to make greasy buffalo wings.
Boys too busy with themselves
getting what they want
when they want it.
when they want it.
Boys too busy with themselves
to really notice.
I hope the boys never really see her;
the heartworms never get to her;
even if that's all her puppy heart wants
-too precious for their time.
The theories of science
can explain gravity's pull
but not why ripe apples
keep falling
to the ground.
The decaying fruit,
sticky paws, stumbling steps.
Yet I hesitate when I want to call out
"Don't pick it up!"
As if I, who is just as rotten to the core,
have any right to try and protect.
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