Doggie Bag

I'm greeted every morning

by a man

with a brown paper bag

of dogshit.

 

No matter where I lay my head,

he finds me when the sun rises

Eagerly outstretched arm, insistent look, the whole nine yards

 

I used to bring each one inside my house, find a place for it, let it stink up my place

piss and moan if anyone tried to take it away.

Loving that pile of stink in the corner

 

After some time though, and mostly because my house was full

I stopped accepting the bags

 

Just because he keeps bringing them to me doesn't mean they're mine.

 

"Here you go! a nice steaming bag of dogshit!"

 

No, no thanks. I don't want that