To Go… Just to Go
He wants to go.
He wants to be in that car.
He is overcome with excitement
and me?
I’d like to get inside his head and
somehow experience what he’s
feeling at this moment
but…
I can’t quite
wrap my mind
around it.

Part of it is because
he’s a dog and the fact that
that’s some
pretty complex shit
bouncing down the spinal cord,
all the way to his tail.

The other part… Well…
It’s just that… nothing
seems to excite me anymore.

So I find myself taking the dog for a ride.
Usurping
his pleasure for my own.
And I am mystified at
his exhilaration.

How do I
get to that?

Is there anything that would make
my ears perk up like that?
Anything?
Something?
Nothing?

Okay. Well…
Perhaps poetry.
Poetry of being.
Poetry of deed.
Poetry of word.
There is that.

The ability to hear another express
poetic thought.
That they might convey some
personal inner expression of
pained or enlightened existence of which
I might be allowed to
share the experience.

Me.
Riding along in your passenger seat;
feeling the breeze that passes by
your window
and mine.

Poetry.
If only I could do the same…

Yes, to step to the stage and
show my deep appreciation of you…
simply
existing.

Here.
Just now.
Were that I had a tail,
I would surely wag it
for you.

©06 Jack Hubbell