a lone dogwood hangs tired over Buster
as he takes cover from what’s left of this July swelter

he’s too old to be out in it
but too loyal to be convinced otherwise
content to serve as aging sentry
over these broken down things

this will likely be his final summer

there ain’t no escaping the heat or the hollow
that burns me inside and out

Becca’s words do me no good
having drifted too far from mercy
so I do what I always do
watch the blue chased by orange, orange smothered by black

come on, boy... show’s over

we’ll wind around back
and muscle our way inside

show’s over
July 9, 2006