Somebody Send a Clue

I disembark in the walkies area.  He is not twenty feet away, blithely rolling acorns around or whatever the hell they do.  I point this out with appropriate urgency.  She continues mucking about with bionic leg.  It is endless.  I age six months of dogtime while she re-does straps and inserts canonic number of fingers to check tightness.  Not quite right.  Start alllll over. She’s had, what, two months of daily practice.  But it is constructing-a-space-shuttle difficult for her.  Meanwhile - and of course it’s a juicy, slow one – he gets wind of us, and trundles into the rocks.  All is lost.
This entry was posted in My Life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.