Still a tough winter, not yet March, but with global warming on the beaches, winds whipping like the tails of dogs as they come up to lick your face, sitting on the sandy beaches with dogs everywhere, frolicking into the waters and getting wet: waterdogs.
Fighting dogs without a reason to bite, throwing him a bone, he will eat it and then not bite his owner. Smaller dogs wagging and jumping stretching leashes to break them, to have freedom, biting into the leather band as it surrounds their neck, chewing it, ripping it open, freedom, being home for dinner.
Dogs biting chew bones exercising their jaws like sharks they file their teeth sharper, thrown another bone, a toy, a time to play, to grip someone with sharper teeth.
Teeth filed still sharper, gripping bone toys, gripping his hand as he hands him his bone. Dogs pounding on sand and jumping into the lake to find a shark, gripping with his teeth, a dog's tooth and a shark's tooth, filed to a stony point.
Smiling whiter teeth and counting new teeth as they grow in your mouth, not missing a tooth, teeth sharp enough to bite and leave a hole, gaping, widely.
The joys of sitting in the sand to watch the dogs play and the sharks bite. A bullfight, gladiators, boxing, wrestling, football, a way to let off steam and to blow it all off on the beach in the sands while the wind blows on your head, not wearing a hat.
No comments:
Post a Comment