I am a dog.
That is accord-
ing to the Chinese.
I’m born a Pekinese
to lick the fingers
of karaoke singers
and nose the crotches
of waiters, wanderers and watchers
and roll over for
a hand on the soft
reverse of my haunch.
I cannot stop an avalanche
of blood. Blame, if you must, my star.
Last night, outside the bar,
skin tingling after kneading your shoulders
in a stranger’s boulders
and pressing up against his chest
harder than your rest,
I saw a dog tied to a parking meter
sniff the perimeter
drawn by the length
of a new leash’s strength.
The owner came (the animal was barking joyfully) at a jog.
I am that dog.
I am one of three featured readers at the Back Fence on Jan 15 (Sun). If you happen to be in Manhattan that day, do drop by and say hi.
Date: Jan 15, 2006 (Sun)
Time: 3-5 p.m.
Place: Back Fence pub, 155 Bleecker Street (corner of Thompson)
Directions: 6 to Lafayette and Bleecker, 4 blocks west; E, F, B, D, Q, A, C to W 4th St., south to Bleecker and 3 blocks east; N, R to Prince St., north to Bleecker and 3 blocks west.
No cover; 1 Drink Minimum + Tip