There won’t be any stray dogs for a while.
No beaches, no coconut trees, no towels,
but it’s the lost dogs I’ll miss the most,
all of them Romeos looking for Juliets,
Annabelles, Chloës, and Scheherazades.
They’re comfortable, candid and unashamed,
they’ll show you everything and nothing,
you’ll never know what they’re up to,
and you’re never invited to stag events.

Sometimes, though, as there’s an afterlife,
they return as peacocks – tails with eyes,
screeching sounds, and small crowns.
It’s only when they think they’re alone
that they bark. It’s their secret call. No one,
no one, no one is ever allowed to know.