A Dog’s Life
By: Richard L. Boyer
Tags: Dogs, Redemption, Soul, Pom, Poetry

A Dog’s Life

Blue eyes in dirty white fur

Photo by Marek Szturc on Unsplash

Glossy deep red Kenworth semis

diesels growling, looming mirages

in a simmering asphalt Sahara,

the Navajo truck stop out I-40

three miles east of Albuquerque

blue eyes in a wobbly ball of dirty white fur

(Canis familiaris) of recent vintage &

uncertain pedigree on the scent trail

of discarded greasy burger wrappers

through prairies of no-spill cups,

emptied ashtrays

A lanky walnut-skinned girl steps

down from a chromed tint-windowed

motor coach pastel airbrushed

“Soul Train Express”

scoops the puppy

lofts him over a

cotton candy afro,

laughs,

instantly names him Pip

& he’s the newest

member of James Brown

and the Famous Flames

touring the southwest &

packin’ houses from

Baton Rouge to Mobile

to Alamogordo

There’s a honeymoon of

cuddling drowsy afternoon

naps on cool cotton sheets

silver champagne bucket

water bowl & Pip drives the bus!

paws on dashboard nose to ac vents

speed-blurred picture window

view out front,

rushing pavement parting

the red sand ocean rafted

with islands of floating

saguaro ocotillo & smoke trees

sweet soul music floods the bus

from black vinyl, cassette tape & cd

Marvin Gaye sings “How Sweet it Is”

Pip throws back his head & howls

with audacious zeal while the band

laughs, “a black dog trapped in

a white dog’s body!”

Summer cools to fall

fleas bite

puppy hardens into dog

cute’s short shelf life ends

Pip’s howls rattle-scratch raveled nerves

cold bus floor replaces Egyptian cotton

sheets & vibrating hotel beds,

nameless leftovers replace steak dinners

Pip is relegated to the back of the bus

precarious luggage shifting

stale tobacco smoke

roadies steal the champagne

bucket water bowl

Pip’s tour ends three blocks

north of the Shrine Auditorium

tethered by chain to One-Eyed George’s

shoeshine stand at S. Figueroa,

South Central L.A.

Winters warm to spring

modest offerings forge a friendship

broken Oreos & scratches behind the ears

a thin towel to lie on when the cracked

concrete sidewalk digs into

old bones like a bed of nails

carbon copy days pass

leather soles slap by

one by one

two by two

three eyes follow

two blue, one brown

George calls “shine! shine, he’ah!”

snaps his lucky polish rag

mutters when scuffed shoes don’t stop

for a seriously-needed shine

Springs dry & become brittle summers

lank fur falls

teeth grow loose in sore gums

low grumbles replace happy wags

S. Figueroa sings with loose exhaust

manifolds rattling sub woofers spew

rap & hip hop &

smoking Quaker State incense

fragrant on the dirty breeze

Dry yellow summer days fade

to gray fall afternoons

gray afternoons begin

their long slide toward

long cold nights

One day a faint scrap

of sweet soul music

floats down the sidewalk

Pip lifts his gray head,

gazes across the boulevard,

stands,

head lifted to the horizon

Pip shakes off his chain &

on wings of a sweet soul

symphony he’s lifted up

above the hard concrete city

eyes watering ears pinned back

he rockets over Interstate 40

asphalt pavement spooling

out before him an endless

16-track Sony tape playing

“The Tracks of My Tears”

Pip rolls out across America

from Tehachapi to Tulsa to Texarkana.