What Does A Dog Think About?

memories and dreams slip into the afternoon
natural light is always involved
light defines what was, what will be
what might have been, what could be

the day a five-year-old dog
saw landscape ink drawings in a book
watched a tandem rotor helicopter fly away
thrilled to dew on spider webs in morning grass
touched a window screen piled with June bugs
became enmeshed in ceiling monster shadows at night

the day a seven-year-old dog
saw the guiding spirit of all animals
touched altruism and found it lacking in others
wondered if bugs and insects were different
began a playing-with-matches phase

the day a ten-year-old dog
kicked into the world of alpha males
believed becoming President was an option
felt moved by AM pop music
accepted privilege, without thinking, as a birth right

the day a sixteen-year-old dog
tried to establish an identity
failed to perceive the edge of the comfort zone
discovered sex
saw the grail
touched the first identity
discovered the gap between perception and reality

the day a twenty-three-year-old dog
saw a wood alley fence smeared with light

walked along 6^th street under gray skies where the tracks cross

met angels disguised as human beings
noticed the blur between lure and love
quit drinking and became fearful of the world

the day a twenty-five-year-old dog
worked in the art department’s print shop over the winter holidays
resigned to a future of cleaning ink from presses
experienced serendipity
walked into the right art gallery at the right time
missed the road signs and slipped into a comfort zone

the day a thirty-five-year-old dog
retreated to a mountain prairie comfort zone home and studio
lost sight of altruism with the heady rush of land ownership
looked at winter constellations in below zero nights
felt peacefully removed from society and cities

the day a thirty-seven-year-old dog
discovered the gray areas in artistic integrity
watched the comfort zone bubble deflate
peeled off the sticky layer of egoism
took shelter on a rocky ridge over a dry canyon
memorized trees, wind, clouds, the sound of rain
began the true downward spiral

the day a forty-two-year-old dog
returned to school, completed graduate studies
prepared to become an adult
threw away possibilities as the fears returned

the day a forty-nine-year-old dog
downsized five thousand books
gave up hoarding for a cross country flight
arrived still dragging chains forged in life
failed to establish a comfort zone
failed to find a family
failed at becoming an adult
spiraled down while still clinging to altruism

the day a fifty-year-old dog
received a gag birthday card from the neighbors

the day a fifty-five-year-old dog
accepted life
gave up and avoided the struggle
embraced the gray world
kissed the black and white world good-bye
lost all the families
threw away pottery shards and used paint brushes

the day a sixty-year-old dog
retreated while pretending to move forward
fastened on to ephemeral relationships
sat in padmasana for hours, weeks, years
embraced the unembraceable

the day a sixty-two-year-old dog
learned a new trick
pretended personality was enough
failed to win friends and influence people
ate half-baked bread
drank watered down coffee
eschewed chocolate and sweets

the day a sixty-four-year-old dog
felt despondent and childlike
thought about do-it-yourself jobs
thought about investing in tools
thought about making an effort
lacked a family
lacked a core
lacked a family
tried to establish an identity
failed to get enough sleep
tossed and turned
discovered that tomorrow never comes

[RK, 12/24/2020]