It is no way to start
the day, one pent
up dog going for
the neck of another,
both at the finality
of their leashes.
On a patch of green
that passes for a yard
stands a tall legged
grill, too close to a
rope of a tree with
roots that have
tied themselves in
knots. Its already
tired leaves bump
against a shredded
privacy fence, rusted
sign tacked to the post,
declaring inherent
right to ownership.
And while we try
to reel them in,
apologizing for bad
behavior, all I can
think of is the last
warm day, how the
smell of meat cooking
had a neighborhood
salivating and tugging
at its primality, all
the wanting having
gone to its head.
The burner must have
been turned on high,
and then, an unexpected
wind. Nothing handy but
fermented iced drinks.
Hazards too close to home.
Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, copyright June 6, 2024, all rights reserved
Posted in Katherine's Coffeehouse
