right on schedule

9 am. & he’s right on
schedule,
barking up a storm, no
doubt happy to be alive,
happy to be a big healthy
dog doing his dog thing
only moments away from
one of my windows in
this neighborhood that
i have moved to of my own
accord & that for reasons
beyond my own control,
though it brings with it the
noise of any given Autumn
Thursday (given decent
weather, etc.), it also entails
the “musings” of this crossroad
in which we meet
every
single
morning &
the night job has made it ring
true, more than a day job might
perhaps, for then he might act as
a living alarm clock, in opposition
to the place that he currently
holds as a reason to pop
melatonin, ibuprofen &
after a half hour or so of rolling
to & fro in agony,
hope
for the
best.