They leer from the edges,
Teeth brushes never touched,
And they all chant the same words.

"Come with me, I have what you want."
"Follow to my stall, I know what you need."
"It's here, what you desire, I promise,you can buy it cheap."

And I wonder.
What if they really do?
What if somehow they have what I need?

Is Love a trinket you can sell on a scarred table?
Is Acceptance a spice that drifts up in the air and makes you snuffle-sneeze?
Can one really purchase Bravery in piles on blankets like you would oranges?

If I could do that, buy those things
With a handful of American money and a little haggling
I don't think I'd want them anymore.

Down the Hill
        With leaps and bounds and thumpingly great
                  Enthusiasm for existence itself and the grandiose beauty of the world
                          He runs, knowing not to ever stop because that's when the people come and
                                   Snap on your leash.
So he gallops forth into
         The vast expanse of the neighborhood without
                  Caring that the people will be mad. He snorts and sniffs his
                          Hound-dog nose and howls at all the Love and Injustice in the universe
                                    All at once.
Logic is not the strong suit
        Of dogs, which is fortunate for him because
                 Knowing brings pain and responsibility and who would not
                          Rather be a dog in a fall afternoon chasing nothing save destiny and joy
                                    Until the end?