Two Poems
One morning before coffee
So I kick over the bowl. And the dog says, “Ya know, I’m not really into that chlorine thing, anyway. Tastes like in and out of a swimming pool. Ick.” He shakes like he’s pool wet. “Ya know, Pierre, block over, he’s a poodle and he has a really big pool and his people, they use water from blue bottles. Something imported, Pierre says. Maybe that would be a better choice here. Ya think?” I lean against the fridge and try to remember if I’d mixed up my meds. And the cat says, “Even though he is a dog, I think he has something here.”
Sign on a Beauty Shop by the Gates of Hell
With years of careful matting
And our secret elixir of marrow bone glue
You can have your own horns too
—Nancy Ellis Taylor, Los Angeles, CA
