at least pickles are cheaper than flowers

I wait and wait
and wait for the turn of the brine tide
and bored, I turn and wait no more.
I walk back home,
with a wooden fork
and open vinegared chips.

i bark, and
i lap up vinegared wine from my bowl
laden with sprinkles of fruit flies.

my collar is on
but my leash, real long.
i’m not in earshot, but
i don’t stray too far.