Little Dog

Lord my head hurts that

was way too much wine

there’s money missing from

my wallet and I don’t remember

letting the dog back in;

I don’t think I won at anything

and now the world is going

crazy and where does

that leave me? with my cheap

wine and my poems

and the little dog I apparently

did let back in…

maybe he took my money

that son of a b***h

with his grin and his wag

and the little bow tie

I bought him

so he’d look classy

though we are both dirt poor

and drink cheap wine;

I tell you sometimes

the money don’t matter

the dog don’t matter

the wine don’t matter

all that matters

is that I let it

all back in.

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

JR, what I take from this poem is the recognition that all's not lost when we remember the little things, especially things that rely on us. In an odd way, it makes us small but good. I think humility is an admired though rare trait, and it's present in this poem. Another good poem that I look forward to understanding more. I'm assuming there's a story behind this one, like your others.

[JR]

Oh there's a story behind it... and I fighting a huge hangover when I wrote it heh. Yes, mostly a reminder to myself that money and things like that don't really matter... what matters is taking life in, unfiltered.

[R.E. Ray]

That makes sense, JR. I've not written hungover, but I've written many after more than a little bourbon or Scotch. Thanks for the clarification.