Loyal

They gave him an overdose
of anesthetic, and its fog
shut down his heart in seconds.
I tried to hold him, but he was
somewhere else. For so much of love
one of the principals is missing,
it's no wonder we confuse love
with longing. Oh I was thick
with both. I wanted my dog
to live forever and while I was
working on impossibilities
I wanted to live forever, too.
I wanted company and to be alone.
I wanted to know how they trash
a stiff ninety-five-pound dog
and I paid them to do it
and not tell me. What else?
I wanted a letter of apology
delivered by decrepit hand,
by someone shattered for each time
I'd had to eat pure pain. I wanted
to weep, not "like a baby,"
in gulps and breath-stretching
howls, but steadily, like an adult,
according to the fiction
that there is work to be done,
and almost inconsolably.

�����--William Matthews

The two messages on my answering machine when I arrived home this afternoon: the family dog, the great and neurotic Brandog, died today; the credit counseling agency thinks I'm a perfect candidate for their services.

I have beer. I have cigarettes a-plenty. I have excellent canine companionship. Leave me the fuck alone, world. Tonight I'm through.

P.S. I'm through with you.