Good Dog

Friendship is…

he stopped in the raw red dirt of the path

and he gave a little cry, today

those soft brown eyes always wet

he looked at me, and wouldn’t go on

so I knelt knowing I would

make my jeans get all muddy

and I worked my way softly through each

gap, the web between his toes

working from right to left

until I found the thorn that had

lodged there and brought

him so much pain;

And nights where I am lost in my whiskey

and my worries and women and god and drink

and I can only find the floor

he licks at my face, tasting

the pain I paint for him with

my soft wet brown eyes as though

working his way from right to left

he can find the thorn

lodged there, lick it clean

where it brings me

so much pain.