AT THE DOG PARK
I walked with my invisible dog on a leash and people
with real dogs smiled and said, “What a lovely animal!”
To which I responded, “He’s a mix of pistachio, vinegar,
cotton, brochette, and a touch of the anti-depressant novocaine.”
One woman I said this to, acknowledged, “I thought as much!
And by the way, I’ve never seen you here before. Do you live
in the neighborhood or did you come a long way overland
in a covered wagon?”
“There’s no way I could afford a covered wagon!” I answered.
“I came here on a bus that was on its way to Tulum, Mexico,
but when it went off the cliff it rolled and rolled until I wound up here,
and now I’m going to make myself home in one of these trees
and me and my dog will look for work trimming the grass
and rubbing sand into people’s eyes.”
“Very impressive story!” the woman responded, and before leaving she said,
“If you’re ever thirsty just holler and my dog will come running.
He understands nine languages and has a Ph.D. in water conservation.
He’ll get you all the water you’ll ever need. . .”
THE VALID POINT
“Conspiracy, my ass!” I said to the rat.
“The reason no one wants your company
is because you eat garbage, are one of the dirtiest
of animals, you have ugly yellow teeth,
and you creep around like a thief in the night!”
Even if what you say is true,” the rat responded,
“I’m really no worse that most of your kind!”
Thinking it over, I realized he had a valid point,
and so I welcomed him to drop by my house
the next time he was in the neighborhood. . .
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