Dog S

Dog S**t

 

by James Begert

 

I'm at the typewriter and it's time for a smoke

But I can't find my lighter

Off I walk to the kitchen and

Out of the corner my left eye

Sits a fresh pile of dog s**t

Brown and glistening in the sunlight

Laughing at me

A familiar disgusted frown arrives upon my face

And then I realize

That that pile of dog s**t

It will always be there for me

Quietly awaiting my arrival

Expecting my loving function

It is the only constant in my life

A warm pile of animal feces

Which makes random unwanted appearances

Our relationship always stays the same

I will collect it carefully in paper towel

Flush and bleach the carpet

I will scorn its maker

Lock the cage

Berate for five minutes and release

In a couple days time

The pile will appear again

Possibly hidden in a closet

Or behind the couch

The location does not matter

Only its existence

And my required duty

It may be day or night

But I will make that same gruesome discovery

And once again

Our awkward relationship will commence

The master and his dog s**t