Dog Tricks

This is the walk I have

taken all my life.

Now, I take it with Jack.

At the park, men gather

in a circle.

At any given time,

at least two of them

are named Gary.

When I say hello

the circle fractures.

Each man begins bobbing away

from the center,

scrambling for the edge,

gasping for breath.

A car has spun out of control.

A Ferris Wheel has flown off its axis.

The world as we know it

has altered forever.

In their minds

They are memorizing 911.

They pull up their jeans

and call their dogs,

Sparky, Missy, Pepper, Bear.

I am hoping Jack won’t pee

on their girl dogs

like he did once before.

“He’s just marking her,” one Gary said.

But another one hurried home

to give his dog a bath.

Jack and I are already strangers here.

No, not Jack,

just me, though I have lived here 30 years.

They look at me from behind something,

and check their watches.

They have to get home.

They have to get home fast.

I am the woman with no husband,

whose dog has just peed

on the big old butts

of the women they are

closest to.