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Poemdog

Dogs 2017

CRICKET ON MY FINGER
(8/14/17)

some things
do not belong
on carpet

beneath
fluorescent
lights

maybe
nothing
does

I bend
down

trying
to cup
the insect

but it jumps
up
upon my hand
as if it knows
my intent

I walk
to the building's
front door

my passenger
riding
motionlessly

I fumble
one-handed
with the lock

emerge
into the morning
daylight

walk toward
the flowerbed

then

as if
on cue

my rescue
hops
to the monkey
grass

begins
to sing
immediately

the rightness
of the moment
is overwhelming

my day
cannot get
any better

I go back
inside

on the
carpet

beneath
fluorescent
lights

hoping
at least
for metaphysical
deliverance