Sam on my lap I scratch his ear
gaze into his sadly happy eyes
wonder just what I’ve done
to deserve him
he who can also be
the loud barking nuisance
startling the hell out of me
who in Vietnam
daily heard both loud
and more muffled blasts
constantly reminding me
mortality expends its time
as explosion or terrier barking.
So to the question of whether or not
our self-centered president
ever even pondered the company of
a pup he would need to kibble-feed
I only can attempt to imagine
the starved and wanting puppy
explosively reminding the Donald
about food, that one necessity
required and craved, sustenance and
attention withheld by
the president playing
golf in Scotland texting Kellyanne Conway,
“Is that greedy little mutt still around?
Feed its ass and name it anything
except Ted or Jeb Ben Mike or Marco
all losers.
And give my dog, whatever
you name it,
the blue ribbon for terrificness
such a winner!
Huge!”
Ed Coletti is a poet who lives with his wife, Joyce, in Santa Rosa.
Open Mic is a weekly feature in the ‘Bohemian.’ We welcome your contribution. To have your topical essay of 350 words considered for publication, write openmic@bohemian.com.
