I’m standing
outside my building,
smoking, waiting.
my Uber – or Via, or
Lyft – is booked and
it wants me to meet him
at the corner. my neighbor
comes out behind me
with his small white
fluffy dog. I wonder
if he hates his dog
as much as I do. I
wonder if it’s possible
for any human being
to hate that dog
as much as I do.

it’s not his fault.
(n.b.: I don’t actually know
if the dog is male. my sister
said once that she assumes
all dogs are male and all cats
are female. I found myself
doing the same.) anyway,
it’s definitely not
the poor dog’s fault.
he lives on the first floor,
he’s compensating
for his useless small size
with endless barking, so he feels compelled
to warn his owner
about everyone who passes
by. this means every time
I come in at 3 am, he barks.
every time I’m doing laundry
or taking out the recycling
at some ungodly hour,
he tattles on me
at long, yappy length.

he’s too busy trying to protect
his territory, which he
seems to think
includes the common hallway
outside his door. maybe if
I piss on the lintel, he’ll
take a hint?

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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