the damn dog had a treat sitting on the arm of my couch,
the banished dog, the dog that jumped on people’s laps
without asking, the dog that wasn’t even there but still
had a dog bone sitting on the arm of my couch.
I was incensed and demanded a treat also; the dog no doubt
had treats that cost a small fortune; I demanded good treats, too.
She came back with a small cardboard box filled with
lunch-size packets of Cheetos, caramel corn, BBQ chips,
the bad stuff that someone brought anonymously to her party
and left behind surreptitiously, glad for it be gone from
their basement when someone else left it at their party.
this person I loved [did she love me] was offering me junk food instead of
a beautiful, organic, wholesome treat like she would buy for her dog.
I was crushed and I ate a whole package of caramel corn
Afterwards I felt sick, but cured of eating such things in the future.
Not sure if it’s tough love, but I know we will have to talk of this while
the dog sits on my lap and farts in my general direction.
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