Wild Goose Poetry Review, No 34, Spring 2018
I really don’t like dogs. They try to get away with everything,
bark in your face and think it’s okay,
piss all over you and think it’s cute.
I don’t like dogs . . . yet I decided to get one.
They don’t come trained. You have to teach them.
That is a mother’s job. It should not be mine.
It doesn’t listen, doesn’t sit when I say so,
hates when company comes around, claims to want me
all to itself, but when a pretty girl walks by,
it wants to be petted and loved.
When I react, it sees me as the bad guy.
So I just ignore it and let it bark up every tree.
Even though I don’t like dogs, I’m falling in love with you.
I can never take you home though, because my mother hates dogs too.