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Bad Dog
No, bad dog.
Stop laying in the sun.
Dreaming of tires
To chase
In the sweaty summer weather.
Stop wondering
What it would be like
To sink your canines
Into
That rotating chew toy
As it speeds away,
Ambling out of sight.
No, bad dog.
Don't imagine any silly tricks.
No one wants your paw.
No one wants you to stand up.
Sit pretty.
No, don't do that.
There's no treats for you.
You can't roll over.
I guess you can play dead.
Bang, bang.
Pretend like you're shot—
Bleeding and stiff,
Collapsed on the pavement.
No, bad dog.
Don't bite.
Don't puncture holes in the soft skin
Though you're just hungry
And frustrated that no one will feed you.
Don't whimper.
That's almost as painful.
Your crying is annoying.
Beggars and whiners can starve.
Nobody cares to hear the strain
Of your warbled bark
As it scratches against
The parched, scraping
Tubing
You call a throat.
No, bad dog.
Sit, stay.
Listen. Listen.
Then maybe someone will pet you
And say,
'Good dog.'
poem
by
Tim Stensloff
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