After the dinner, the dishes, the naps,
My dog and I stroll laps around campus.
She stops to sniff random turds, blades of grass,
Discarded fast-food wrappers rustling
In the cool northern Oklahoma breeze.
We see exactly two other people outside
(not counting those passing in their cars),
A tall, lean, lonely Russian athlete
Stranded here over the long holiday,
And a blonde boy-child madly throwing leaves
In his grandparents’ huge, unraked yard.
Otherwise, this corner of the world
Isn’t saying much of anything,
And that’s a good thing when
You’ve got a belly full of turkey and pecan pie
And you’ve just awakened at 4 p.m.
And all you really want is to be alone
With something who doesn’t talk,
Just barks at squirrels and falling leaves
As the sun pirouettes towards the western edge
Of all that our four eyes can ever truly see.
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