she once had a dog
that dug holes,
and sniffed for truffles
buried at earth’s hard edge.

not the center,
not the meat.
salmon jerky’s tactful apology
for soggy pig ears.

they went to the beach,
and I went too.
tucked in a basket,
but soon, footsteps away.

even in quiet areas,
there were ice cream stands.
but here, no children screamed.
as I lapped at trickling mango.

pawed at puddles of guava,
jumped at centipedes,
tore apart their pamphlets of doom.
proselytized, theatrical quivers.

things the dog did
for the love of her palms.
digging these holes,
panting at Polaroids.

*Cat No. 28 of the 500 Cats Project