Dogs 2014

VERY OLD
(12/24/14)


I still
have days
of fleeting
immortality

all smiles
and a flailing
of limbs

then
there is
today

I feel
like a moth
after being
battered mercilessly
by a coven
of six year old
girls

my magic
flying dust
has mostly
been rubbed
away

they have
tired of me

leaving
me alone
to die

I know
not
what else
to do
but impotently
flap and flop about
hoping
for the return
of flight

movement
seems
the important
thing

as
in good times
but with
a different
expression
of futility

to be still
is to be mistaken
for dead

until
no mistake
is made