Walking the Dog

The other day

I took a brisk stroll

down the neighborhood sidewalk

in my grey

old man’s jogging

suit and

my favorite

red sweat faded

baseball hat

looking down at all the


on the sidewalk


and holes needing


beneath my toes

looking up at


and crows

and squirrels

looking down to me

cackling and squeaking

me walking

to and fro

I saw that

the sidewalk rose

because roots grew under

slabs of concrete

pushing them up


and if you weren’t cognizant

you’d trip

and break your ass

so I was paying close attention

to the peaks and the valleys

over and under

until there was

this guy I’d never seen

 who passed by in a hurry

not smiling

with his dog on a leash

like he was on patrol

I just had to mention



didn’t look up as he walked on

face frozen

gaze passing through me

and then I saw his dog

squat in my front yard

a few doors down


he and his dog had chosen

so I stood and watched

standing there in my

worn running shoes

to a tee

and then the owner walked on

then I turned around and kept walking

on my way

as did he

thinking that when I finished my route

‘shall I tout about

having some

work to do

with my pooper scooper

or just run over it when it dried

with my lawnmower

a couple days

from now

and shout

scattering it


hand tossed

bird seed?’

so I started

noticing piles

on every neighbor’s

nicely mown

green grass parkway

as I walked by


when I warmed up

to a run

I began jogging my thirty minute

eight block trek

which circled straight

back to my house


having seen others walk by

my window

of whom I never

catch their dogs

doing their ‘business’


this guy must be new

to the neighborhood


I don’t remember ever seeing him

before today


when I watch the usual faces

 with their dogs

on leashes


 know I’m looking


they never wave

or say


they always look to see who’s


standing outside

making sure their dog

doesn’t do any

what not’s

until no man


still looking

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