Last One ChosenI watch, my attention arrested
By the clan of neighborhood kids
Five of them charging around the corner
Followed by the dutiful beagle mix
Intent on keeping watch
They clamber into the cab
Of the neighbor's sturdy F-150
But the last one finds no room
Perhaps he was too slow
Perhaps the rest had a head start
I watch from my perch on top of the hill
As he shuffles his feet outside
Picks up a stick and throws it
But even the dog made it in
Before the doors closed.
He pretends it doesn't matter
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
Who needs to pretend anyway?
The truck is going nowhere
After all
Minutes pass as I watch myself
Standing outside, looking in
I climb into the bed of the truck
And kneel on the toolbox
Behind the rear window
By the clan of neighborhood kids
Five of them charging around the corner
Followed by the dutiful beagle mix
Intent on keeping watch
They clamber into the cab
Of the neighbor's sturdy F-150
But the last one finds no room
Perhaps he was too slow
Perhaps the rest had a head start
I watch from my perch on top of the hill
As he shuffles his feet outside
Picks up a stick and throws it
But even the dog made it in
Before the doors closed.
He pretends it doesn't matter
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
Who needs to pretend anyway?
The truck is going nowhere
After all
Minutes pass as I watch myself
Standing outside, looking in
I climb into the bed of the truck
And kneel on the toolbox
Behind the rear window
As if in prayer
To some capricious god
Who clearly has Better Things In Mind for me
Than driving some imaginary highway
With the ones I would call friends
The dog understands (they do that)
Makes enough of a pest of himself
That he's handed awkwardly
Through the driver's side window
To the lone figure in the back
I watch, my attention arrested
By my own black faithful friend
His attention riveted
To his brown-and-white counterpart
A shared understanding
My eyes trace the line
Between my dog and his
And I think
Out loud
"You got the better deal, kid."
One Single ImpressionTo some capricious god
Who clearly has Better Things In Mind for me
Than driving some imaginary highway
With the ones I would call friends
The dog understands (they do that)
Makes enough of a pest of himself
That he's handed awkwardly
Through the driver's side window
To the lone figure in the back
I watch, my attention arrested
By my own black faithful friend
His attention riveted
To his brown-and-white counterpart
A shared understanding
My eyes trace the line
Between my dog and his
And I think
Out loud
"You got the better deal, kid."
About this piece: It isn't a story about dogs (as thought by someone who read it back when I wrote it). It's a story of the disenfranchised, the misfits. The "Vicarious" element is in the person shift in the 5th and 6th stanzas.
A true story. All the way around.
About the photo: If you haven't met Tonka yet, now you have. World, meet my best friend Tonka. Tonka, world.
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