Barking senseless. Falling in love everyday all over again. There I bit a pound out of Eliot's cats. I didn't have a reason really, other than they annoyed the shit out of me. I barked at Sylvia too, to get her head out of the oven. She died. The holidays were black that year. And Emily. I guess I was her dog. Running down by the sea. Barking. Incoherently.
4 thoughts on “In another life, I was a dog”
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This is pretty clever and funny.
That wouldn’t happen to be an Ezra pound you bit out of those cats would it?
Thanks. And – yes it is Ezra. And then Sylvia Plath and Emily Dickinson.
What up, dawg!?!?
You are priceless Webb.