When I get too blue
I laugh at myself
pick up the leash
and take Mr. Brown to the dog park.

He shows me how
to be carefree
will jump and bark
drink a gallon of water
and lick whomever he chooses
without a worry in the world.

Everybody admires his *****,
What kind of dog is that?
He’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback.
an African lion hound,
but he’s scared shitless of my cat.
what’s yours?
A Visla.
Looks like yours, only smaller.
Did you see that American Foxhound?
That s.o.b. can jump!
Yeah, too bad he can’t pay my mortgage.

The young photographer shows off
his brilliant Doberman’s latest trick –
a double backflip
catching the Frisbee ten feet high
landing on all fours.
The old lady with the blind daschund
says, “Oh, oh, isn’t he wonderful?”
She claps her hands in delight.

The canine Noah's arc show runs all day
with the entry of pugnacious Sharpeis
the arrogance of Poodles
the inscrutability of giant Malamutes.
the pride of leash-holders.

Gradually tree shadows darken the sawdust
and people start parading home,
the **** athletic girls with their boyfriends’ Shepherds
the slow old men with their greying Labradors
the lady real estate agents with their tiny Shih Tzus.

And then it’s silent
I’m the last one there
alone in the gathering dusk
still hearing echoes of joyful barks
realizing how funny it is
that so many people
look just like their dogs
but I don’t think about it,
I just marvel at all this joy.

I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.

Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.

Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****…..!?
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !

Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.

I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.

Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.

The lion dog’s muscles ripple
as he descends the stairs
toward the source of food
guarded by another creature
smaller but just as wild.

The standoff happens in the kitchen -
a 110-pound Rhodesian Ridgeback
a pet who wants his kibbles
and the housecat
who thinks she owns the place.

The hound approaches
slow and deliberate
his huge head depending
from a neck
thick like a phone pole.

The cat sits alert but unconcerned
until their noses touch -
then the cat flashes surprising claws
ripping the hound’s nose
and he runs yelping into the living room
to hide behind the couch
to fall asleep
dreaming of the hunt
the rush of his tawny brothers
across dusty savannahs
toward great African lions
with paws like dinner plates
and sabertooth mouths.

The most interesting man in the world says
it’s harder to be confident
more difficult to say hello you're pretty
if you do not have a secret supply
of the endorphins of love

harder to feel happy
at the dog park at midday
chatting with the ***** real estate ladies
while you lust after the tatted chick
with the nose ring and the Rottweiler

she is 40 years younger than you
you were born before her parents met
and it’s more difficult to believe
she would be interested in you
than it is to just go home
and read MEN’S JOURNAL

so you do the hard thing
you stroll up with your Ridgeback
nervous that you wore a tank top
and you say

I am lonely
estranged here in the sawdust
with those women my age
who look like my grandmother
and I bet if you would just listen
I could tell you about a miracle

and she looks at you
like you’re mental
she ***** her head interested
tell me, she says.

I am looking at his laptop
There, a rotated sphere is stabbed through the middle
An axis like any other but it is his work and he takes a drink
Some girl in thin boots passes by as she looks for a seat
She clutches her laptop
The laptops are everywhere like a silent dignified force I watch
My screen
It is dark and in between mysterious grease drops and dust particles I see my face
Not clearly
Just enough to get the gist of what we are dealing with today
Not Helen more like
Penelope on Ithaca
Sometimes I open the map and study outlines of islands in the default format
My laptop skills are far removed from making programmed ridgeback Bolts spin I see
The reflection of somebody who studies something so superficial
I build things too I hope
But these things
Like odysseys are ROIs in due time

I look over to him again
His screen is now a chat
And a red heart is sent by the other person
I look back and turn my computer back on
Though lighter I still
See myself I touch
The screen gently
The dent makes a blueish pulse I press
A little harder into the glowing screen
More colors of the rainbow I see
Green in some places I roll
My thumb into the matter
The screen is buckling the whole library tucks I press
Harder
The dent is the skin of a rainbow
And my thumb goes on top of the matrix
I press even more
Until it cracks and
I can’t see my face anymore