I thought to call," she
types
after her neighbor's pit bull
attacked her, even though
we'd sworn each other off
for the eighth time
in five months.
I talk her through police calls
unsavory pet owners next door
and animal control
since I'm not as fanged
as the swearing prophets claim.
Two days later
she's throwing banana nut bread
in the trash
as though baking a loaf
could erase the acid spat.
There are two types of fools:
Those who know they are
and those who don't.
Sweet tooth or not
I'm neither.
Currently reading:
"jubilat 29".
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