Dog Logic

This entry is part 1 of 29 in the series Conversari


Do I smell of dalmatian?
Are these damned spots
in my vision ever going
to shrink? I should stop
watering them with tears—
putting my head out
the window as we drive
& facing into the wind.
Surely at this speed
I should be seeing stripes?
But no, these little blanks
are everywhere I look
& sharply delineated, like
a stray cat slinking in
to drink milk: lapidary.
Impossible to catch.

With thanks to A.R. for the opening line.

See the photographic response by Rachel Rawlins, “clean dried.”

Series NavigationThe Colors of Noise →

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