Member-only story
Happiness is a Dog
Poetry
I’ve never been so happy
to see someone
that my whole body shook
like an electrical wire
jumping and sparking,
my face just a window
opened to let the light in.
Dogs don’t have suicidal thoughts.
They lie and wait
for their friends to come home,
and when they do come home
everything wrong with the world
suddenly rights itself
like a self-adjusting picture frame.
The food bowl magically fills,
and the back yard
sends out its invitations
like every day is a birthday party
and the sunset spills
its golden milk
across the tops of the trees.
A dog pays no bills,
creates nothing but friendship,
and its life is still enough.
Isn’t it enough
to smell the dandelions
as if they were roses,
to chase every bird
like it was born to be caught,
to bring someone a ball
and say, yes, throw it.
