My dog doesn't know what he's barking at.
He just heard a noise and jumped right up to the bay window of my living room--
Started filling some biological urge to yelp and yelp and yelp

His world is full of couch and television and sliding door
An artificial dharma, chance's domesticate
We have put the love and fear of Machiavelli into him,
We have given him the distilled wisdom of Pavlov.

But I love Marko (and Riley), and even though I'm a cruelly confounded master I love them as best as I can--
I give them pets and snuggles and treats
And keep them out of the street.

(Riley keeps ******* in my bathroom... so I have to tell him no.)

I don't always know what I'm barking at either
Sometimes the TV whispers things and I was already born with a brimming, buzzing head...
Sometimes I feel bug-eyed and frustrated with myself
Sometimes I feel I'm living the mundane life of a dog

But I'm not a dog, I'm a human
And a rather lucky one at that--
I get to pick up the broken pieces of a life crashed to the side of the road
I get to feel the depth of love and wield this great resilience
Caught in the middle, anxious to explain myself
And obsessed with self-awareness
But I will live this life and let it go with grace--
I will face the world and hallow this space.