The Dog

What what what can I say....All the people I see of so many races
Mixture of races, mongrels all
What what what can I say.....Liars cheats heroes and vampires all

The faces, the faces they surround me, engulf me
The arch of the eyebrow, the funny protuberance of an eyeball
The snub nose, or one so peculiarly curved and defined
As to have been moulded by a sculptor in a moment of madness
And stuck on to this smooth surface of skin
Which is the strange Mediterranean or Indian or African or Jewish or East European or
British face I see before me...
The olive skin which covers so many gradations of being
And textures
pebbly to knobbly to jagged to marble smooth (if you are that lucky teenager)
Baby skins and the walrus-like wrinkled, folded, coarsened and prickly skin
Of a drunkard hopefully on the not-so-slippery slope of
Rehabilitation -

What what what can you say......what words do you have left
The funny walk, the stumpy ankles, the fashion we idolise
Of cut off ankle lengths and hip swinging minis over black leggings
Delineating the bulging, knobbly protuberances of limbs.

And each being so exuding of a need.....
Craving of things, of succour, of destinations
Humanity not to be denied
Like the muling cry of a new born babe

Then I see the clear eyes of a young pup or a dog or a bitch
The wagging tail
The glossy coat
And somehow, its a miracle, the world is a miracle

and a smile will save all - may be.