The man on the curb
with his socks pulled up high,
a Swisher Sweet parked in his mouth,
(no mask)
tells his friend in the car
that he wants to see this dog,
my dog, asks me what kind she is
then tells me
I don’t mean you no harm
I don’t mean you no harm
at least those two times, as if
I am making a silent calculation of risk
and whether I need to ruin his day
or end his life
by calling to say that I’m scared,
there’s just something off about him
my cellphone as weapon, deadlier
than anything he has
unless he has COVID
(but I only think of that
later)
this morning I step forward,
say I know you don’t, twice,
at least (through my mask),
so he can pet my dog
and we can move along,
that much closer to 2021
and all it might bring us.