Sunday, December 11, 2011

On a Mission

The panting of a brindle dog
disturbed my washing up.
I ran through the house to the veranda.
A yellow-eyed chicken killer,
part mastiff, pitty, kelpie
and born to partake in this county's gifts,
slurped water from the tub under the tap

"Come here. C'mon. Here boy."

He looked at me like I was a crazy
and loped away, up the street.

When Bob lived
I used to pitstop too.
A cup of Bob's grimy tea
and I was ready for the world.


  1. Yes, good energy. It's still going on.
    His place is on the market now. Yesterday morning we had a home open. I got in after photographing SS SI etc and I was still in the shower when they all arrived and left on my bike. When I got home, I realised I'd left a snarl of hair in the bath. Damn.
    Strange times.

  2. Yes, everything about Bob was a bit 'grimey' - his glasses, appearance. Such a big character who left a big space when he went.

    Sneakey strategy ST - snarls of hair to put off prospective buyers :0

  3. Would have been even better if were pubic hair. (Guffaw!!)