every night this week
we've had a warm meal and beer
we all sleep under the roof
dogs walking from room to room
curled up on the couch

watching the ceiling,
chatter from my mouth
or the others
worrying about being taken away
going home again, or
back to the cancer cities of southern california

music blares, echoes through empty hallways and rooms
*** often but seldom heard
taking pipes in the backyard
tracking dirt and smoke in the house
paw prints on tile floors

milky white eyes pupils searching
every time I step over you
long frayed coat
big ears like the puppy
and the black one that greets me
after passing through back roads

I spent summers with you
when you used to sprint
before your hind legs started to drag
before your mouth and tongue
started to sag

you sleep all day, taking your pills
‘crotchety old lady’
who doesn’t die

you’re a memory now,
who eats six pills before dinner
you’re here so we can all look into your eyes
like crystal *****, foggier with each evening

I hope you’re dreaming when you pass
that you don’t take for granted the last few months

old shepherd,
so hard to let go

thought she was beautiful, speaks whatever comes to mind
months too young, dyed black hair
big blue eyes
her words sounded different
but I don't mind
I see her on a TV screen
she makes me go blind

in ear shot, passing by
you can hear warnings on
the street signs

death,
it stops breathing,
holding holding
until you’re no longer separate

it sprints through city streets
gracefully stretches out of hospital beds
folding blankets, fluffing pillows
waits next to us

death is fragile,
shatters on pavement
falls in cracks and
drifts and dries

how many of us have died walking
through a doorway
could so much be forgotten

a couple of incidences we shared,
both on my bed, near sunrise
feeling kind of high, tired
and hopeful

smooth skin,
a soft gaze, smirking
lying about your age

you matched me, in
recklessness and silence
a night long ceremony
where we fell asleep
together with a hollow passion

I won’t try to remember you,
or your natural hair color
I’ll think unprotected ***
and cheating on my (then) girlfriend

I’ve walked this sidewalk endlessly,
passing the Korean markets to see how
cold the rain gets, and how desperate
I am to get laid on my birthday

imagining if anyone I knew is out of town,
although most spiteful, hope to
see me sitting on the stairs in the rain
as they drive by in their expensive,
useless sedans

how desperate I am to get out of the heat,
I remember the frigid, cold nights spent
in one of our bedrooms,
“If this is California, why am I so cold?”

maybe I could find someone to keep around,
for longer than the preferred months,
each minute spent
with you
is a longer goodbye
“If this is your love, why are you so cold?”

At the end of my time,
I want to say
“I hope the next life,
is as beautiful as the last.”