Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Nixon's Curse

excavating my backyard,
turned up some soil
and thought i might start a garden
of carrots, perhaps radishes,
but on the second push of the spade
hit rock, at least what i believed to be rock-
and as i knelt to heave and pull
the rounded stone from its resting place
i realized that sure enough, it was a skull-
not of some civil war forgotten,
not of Yorick
but my long lost dog "Nixon"
who i had believed to have run off
in 1973, after i had cursed him for
vaulting his hefty paws on the dining room table
knocking over my nice dinner salad-
he had, after all, ruined it-
the irony is crippling now, Nixon.
bad dog.

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