dog

north carolina

What felt saddest when I left home today was saying goodbye to the dogs.

I guess because they each might die before we’re together again.

But to them, every moment is the same as the one before or after so what is the passage of time? To say nothing of one’s own mortality.

They don’t even know.

Talia let herself be petted a little and told she’s done a good dog job, all things considered, before slinking away.

Gracie came when I called, happy and surprised, and I cried against her muzzle and told her to stay black.

mistook for basic

Some chicks I took from a distance for basic are now sitting on this wooden walkway, against the red fence over which I and anyone can look downward onto the terrestriality of Freetown Christiania, and I can see the enormous intricate tattoos one of them has running the lengths of her thighs and that the other is sharing an apple with her dog. They’re just naturally that blonde; it’s not a choice they make that correlates to a bunch of other choices I might infer they make, too.

If I start to make these private musings public, perhaps some sort of THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS SOCIAL PREJUDICE warning will be in order. Or maybe just a note at the bottom that I considered it and ultimately settled on a note at the bottom.

Scroll to Top