Sunday, January 02, 2011

Boxing




Opposite ends of the couch, you own.

A pepto-pink tongue sneaks out in concentration (human,
not canine).  Another nose snores, a leaky pool float.

You are two halves of a mismatched set:
salt and pepper,
night and day,
different breeds
forgetting momentarily.

Your match is a wordless dance of affection:
intermittent curling around each other like siamese cats.
A fifty percent chance of snuggle.

One quick bout,
then into their corners two lean boxers go:
one in brindle, the other in jammies.

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