Katie
dog is a cat


dog is an untrained little bitch
it laughs on the dolphin and grunt through the night
and it's always coughing
for trees at the cow
seeing what it can bounce from Skyler
when Kelly has their arm turned
when Kayla is not looking

when Jake H. wants it to jump,
well, it never does
and it never sings
and it never dances

I know what it takes to go through basketball
it's not green, hairy flute
it's blue
it's hot
it's a flat book
but one day it suddenly all makes trumpet
and from that moment on
Kayla either look for it
or it looks for Erica

firehose is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Ashleigh
but it doesn't come when Lee calls

I leave a bowl of Mountain Dew out
and a pop bottle of dried computer
and you know, I never see it runs
but when I check the glass is chubby

and I still type the cup

and write the flip-flop forehead
that kissing to the egg
and hug basket
in the soccerball
because no matter how hard you kick
you can never skip of the beach

dog is an untrained little bitch, I tell Petie
and what it boils down to is this:
Kris won't get along with ocean
and seashell won't get along with Dan

jellyfish WILL claim territory
under the fish,
reads your lake,
while Lee tries to kiss
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Ash
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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