With Dogs
If you lie down with dogs
you’ll get fleas
Granddaddy said
and the stink’ll stick to you
and people’ll know
and you sat
next to him
in the garden
on that old seat
he made
out of cast off wood
and he said
keep to your own kind son
don’t get out
of your depth
with that dross
and he stared up
at the sky
and you saw
his cool blue eyes
take in more
than you did
from the cloud shapes
to the passing
overhead birds
and you said
it’s easy to get involved
with that type
they haven’t got
the same degree
of choosiness
and he looked at you
and said
boy if they ain’t choosy
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poem by Terry Collett
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