Memories have always made my mind swerve in circles
As if they, themselves, can’t quite figure out which direction to go
Like taking a safari, if the guide were senile and possibly less than sober
To your left, you’ll see my great-grandmother cursing in Hungarian
as if her kitchen was a 5 story apartment complex engulfed in flames
and the nearest firefighter was 18 miles away
because someone had the nerve to imply she was cheating at Canasta.
We snapped this photo just in time. You can’t see me in the frame, but I can see me.
Standing behind the man holding our new fangled digital camera and, trust me,
I was laughing as hard as she was cursing
But she is gone now and this memory has turned from citrine to cerulean
And quick! To your right
It looks like we’re just in time to see the common night predator known as “that guy”
Now don’t be fooled by his looks,
this one’s dangerous,
whatever you do, don’t make direct eye contact
See how he grabs me by the arm
Watch as my resistance becomes a broken nose and two black eyes
But wait!
See my fists transform to fire forged fury
And this night of obsidian turns orange
And dead ahead, behind the bushes
Watch as our playful puppy grows into dying dog
This one
This one, I never could quite figure out
When they can no longer jump onto the bed
When their aching joints move like molasses
When dinnertime no longer brings a wagging tail
And they try not to yelp as they put one pained paw in front of the other
The vet tells you “it’s time”
“It’s kinder this way”, the doc will say
“Can’t you see, she’s in great pain?”
The family gathers round
Teary-eyed and torn
Wishing she could talk
Tell you what is wrong
Where is the pain, pup?
Show me where it hurts
But I promise you that
that would only make it so much worse
See, let me pose a problem with these progeny pups
If they could, indeed, say what they need
That pet would look a lot like me
Too close to human
A brand new breed
And they would tell us where the agony lies
And we would tell them it gets better
They’d say how much it hurts, this life.
And we’d convince them that they need to fight
And this would mean the devastation
Of the “dog is man’s best friend” equation
But this has been the way for eons
And something must be done
And so dog, always the bigger man, would choose to evolve
Into something that no longer speaks
Until the only sounds they knew to make
Were grunts and barks and growls and yelps
Because then we would relearn to help
Then, and only then, you see
We’d listen to what they had to say
If I learned to bark as she
Do you think they’d start listening to me?
If I used yelps instead of rhymes
Would the doctor finally say “it’s time?”
