Arts + Scene » Poetry

Charles de Gull


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Charles rests on a piling
That served its purpose years ago
Beak tucked under dark wing.
He is waiting for my next move.

I enjoy my Costco yogurt
Washing over the free samples,
And contemplate driving away.
I am following his lead.

It is my birthday.

If he takes to air
I am out of here,
If he continues his meditation
I will watch over him.

He is the perfect pet,
Requiring no care or attention,
Always there when I return
And sit by the sea.

For just a moment,

I miss the feel of fresh dog shit
Squishing between my toes
As I walk down the hall
And awaken my children.


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