right on schedule

9 am. & he’s right on

schedule,

barking up a storm, no

doubt happy to be alive,

happy to be a big healthy

dog doing his dog thing

only moments away from

one of my windows in

this neighborhood that

i have moved to of my own

accord & that for reasons

beyond my own control,

though it brings with it the

noise of any given Autumn

Thursday (given decent

weather, etc.), it also entails

the “musings” of this crossroad

in which we meet

every

single

morning &

the night job has made it ring

true, more than a day job might

perhaps, for then he might act as

a living alarm clock, in opposition

to the place that he currently

holds as a reason to pop

melatonin, ibuprofen &

after a half hour or so of rolling

to & fro in agony,

hope

for the

best.