walking down the road
with my four legged shadow beast
as is becoming my norm
with more frequency
a truck slows
stops
this one a little nicer than the last
the occupant a smidge older
disposition and acutraments
hint of affluence
one I recognize
for its parallel with my past
as is my practice
I hold my Dopt
keep a safe distance
no Tom Bundys or
car flattened pup for me
a chat ensues
the previous a local
fishing for a name a number
must be the jeans
I give him my first
awkwardly stumble over my words
withhold the last
in its place I spit
oh I've been out her a year and a half
he makes me nervous
he senses it
his distraction with my jeans blinds him
to the fact that in terms of years
though just barely I tell myself
I could be his mom. yuck
he pulls away closing with
it is nice to meet you
kathy living out here a year and half
today more gentlemanly
the garb and mud covered truck
indicative of hunting
so I ask about such
no luck
he discloses it is loosing its appeal
a phase waning
we talk dogs
he seems lost, hints of sadness
he becomes awkward
no names exchange
too gentlemanly to infringe
to make me uncomfortable
clearly his stay and talk tug
I hold my distance
am attentive
he was acutely aware of a certain aloneness of his own
but stranger danger lurks in the back of my mind
I hold as not fishing for a name
he seeks a deeper connection
his sadness, my wary stillness
pulls him away
returning to his big city
he seemed a nice soul
the shadow beast
oblivious to human need
plunges joyfully into the cow tank
for her ritual swim
I blog on as she repeatedly nudges in reminder
to lift my head
my norm, our norm, repeats
with the frequency of the living
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