This Day

This day is unsteady,
an earthquake,
instead of a tremor,
as I am walked
by the all-pull-dog
across the park,
becoming more of a drag
behind her.

Heel scuffs, mine, on tarmac,
her strangled collared-coughs
announce our parade:
Coming to town is
the flat-footed quivering clown
and his comedy dog.

A smile from a child,
delighted by the sight
of such a performance:
My dog tugs at the lead
and I am walked.

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