Walking My Dog

TIWP Student

On my walk
step by step I move,
he a step ahead and sometimes behind.
But I have to move fast
and with great intent.
The trees look down at me from above
and I smile wide.
I hear the birds sing,
their songs of love, of cheer, of sadness.
On a bright sunny day
I am sweating.
I need to shower.
My dog squats to the ground.
I see a beautiful, crystal clear ocean and beach.
I kneel and clean up.
He and I continue
step by step.
Politics is the art of compromise
But how can a government operate if a failure of innovation is punished?
Why did he specify men as the future senators, congress members, and president?
Why did that car drive so slowly past?
It is as if they were looking at me
in a rather unseemly manner.
Can anyone be an avatar of change
or just certain people?
How are they chosen?
Perhaps I should not have worn tight yoga pants and a very tight, revealing top
that so effortlessly and comfortably fits me?
I pick up my pace,
stars shining bright above.
Now I’m running with him, hoping to stay ahead
but just ever so slightly.
It’s so upsetting how—when one is down—the pack brutally tears them apart.
It’s true for dogs, but people may be worse.
My eyes well up.
I really need to drink more water.
He stops again as we near the house.
I push and nudge to continue
but he won’t budge.
He lays down.
Just a few more steps left.
We arrive.
Tomorrow we’ll do the same.

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