Saturday, January 21, 2012


Nobody notices the dog
Old enough heart, no good
Like a Romany gypsy
Repaying a debt
To the destructive powers
Orphans. Thieves. Invalids.
Roars the earthy spirit
A single word is a
Catalyst for it all
But “I’m not so tough”
                                                                So thinks the old broken dog

Remember to take in the proverbial long view, and not the abbreviated version of existence.

That afternoon, as the poorly compensated workers flooded out of the shops, I walked into a student weeping and heaving some ugly sob on the dirty curb of the street in her short dainty skirt. I put my hand on her shoulder, her hair curled and hung down over my hand. She looked up with watery red eyes. “Cry elsewhere,” I told her, “Or sprout wings and soar, girl.”