snapshot in poetry

the dog and I go on these little adventures together
sometimes he’ll bark at a phantom
sometimes he’ll sniff at some leaves
sometimes he’ll piss on every tire that he sees
little usually comes of it

I’ll let myself out for a walk once or twice a week
sometimes I’ll look for a job
sometimes I’ll read my poetry
sometimes I’ll look for a woman who sees something in me
little usually comes of it

this life is maddeningly short
in a universe ten billion years old
the dog will get maybe twenty years
I’ll get maybe eighty at best
most of the moments therein
will be formed from a lattice of failures
shots in the dark and near-misses
striking out hard on the things that we wanted
ridiculously close to the things we didn’t know we needed
this is our life
not just the dog or I but everyone who can sort of think
reaching our toes out toward some grand ocean
never getting to swim
maybe getting a tease of our toes wet
and a scattering of sweet spaced-out victories
that we must do our best to hold onto

come with me, dog
we’ll bark at phantoms together for a while
maybe one of them will even turn out to be real
I doubt it
but I don’t doubt it so much
that it isn’t worth the trying

Last updated November 10, 2015