Smile

Boxter dog,

he smiles, doesn't know better.

Leading where we let him, heeling when he has to.

Mostly he follows

me around my crowded kitchen

until I can't stand it anymore and yell,

"Get out of the kitchen!"
and he goes.

He flys over walls, dances in grass
blows bubbles in the muddy water with his face.
Glory life, he says
nothing left but detail
a scent, a dragonfly, a sparkle in the night.

Just a brown dog with wrinkles in his forhead,
a serious smile, concerned eyes.
"Are you happy?" he asks.
"Can you slow down for me?"
He makes circles around my feet,
figure eights,
infinity.