i tend to forget easier   now   if what we have is authentic,
so many things happening in our lives    school, work   we are
so afraid of our futures    what does it hold for us?
does music reflect us?     when I say    hey, I heard this song and it
reminds me of you            do you care  
I think    we are alone   now
the    way you hold me   is holy
flightless bird    find me    jealous   weeping

when i first saw him in my grandmother’s house in Torices, I cried with joy
never had I felt such love and adoration for a creature   so little   and innocent
so full of hope   and dreams   all he dreamt   was of loving us    and defending us
against dragons   and imaginary    monsters    the king of the house   how ordinary
it is   the love   a dog gives to its     owner         and yet  i looked upon him
with such   wonder     he fought      all fights   as if they were his last
i still see    his   brown eyes   and white against    dark walls
the bark     that broke  silences     and soothed    wounds  and pains
the touch   of a  wild  thing     tamed
how   we walked   we walked    we walked   and when he was young
he ran  like     water      
my little    thing      what do i call you?
you saw me    grow  up    grandpa   died   and then
grandma    died too      you met the boy of my dreams  and
made sure he would    not    break my heart
you loved    my worst   parts      loved my father   despite
his  anger    loved my mother     despite her faults
when you died,    I cried like the time I had first seen you
my little thing       close to me always
what a pair  we made   here      walking  in sync   just right
the sun shone  for us    on Thursday mornings     mom and dad
giving you a piece of your favorite treat
my little thing     how ordinary   it all is

Crying over a dog   is a bit    Xtra   no one wants
to talk about the little    sad things in life   like  sick dogs
with  broken limbs    weak breathing    desperate eyes
it happens   everywhere   that type of suffering

thank  you for saying    hello  and
not expecting  anything else from me

Sometimes    it’s just easier to dim  the silence
with conversations from fictional    heroes, villains,   normal
people   so unlike us

as my tendencies begin to stop---for panic   attacks
and anxiety-fueled
nights      of non-stop thinking  
back-and-forths about the
nature  of my spirit, good or bad
I start to fear more instead  
are all the people I love dead?
will my  dying dog kick his way into my room
and speak to me    truths  
I can’t bear to hear?

You want to separate yourself from me sometimes   but
my side isn’t willing to let go