The Dog

      for every dog

Sitting in my car in traffic, I’m lost in different stories in my head: what was and how I failed, what may be and how I may fail. These stories keep rising up, like bones that won’t stay buried. Again and again. Suddenly I hear a voice, clear as day, say sharply Honey baby, look around you! So I do and to my left I see a big dog sitting in the passenger seat of the car beside me, watching me from his open window. He’s nut-brown with every-which-way fur, bright-eyed. Something in his expression makes me nod to him and he immediately nods back, obliging as only a dog can be. He keeps his steady gaze on me while the wind roughs his cowlicks. I smile at him tentatively; he pulls back his lips and grins widely. He won’t look away and I find that I can’t. What does this dog want anyway? I wonder, and as soon as the question forms in my head, he leans out the window, closes his eyes and sniffs the air. His wet black nose quivers ecstatically. I realize, as if waking from a trance, that it’s a beautiful day — I close my eyes, lean out and smell the clean air too. The moment stretches mystical-long. I think of nothing but the sweet Now. When I open my eyes, the car with the dog has gone ahead; the traffic is moving again. I can see him up in the distance, his head hanging out the window, looking back. He is still grinning. So am I. As I drive on, I’m thinking I’ll take a walk when I get home, the cool wind in my hair. Maybe I’ll find a stick, long and smooth. I’ll throw it — there is no wrong way — and watch it effortlessly arc in flight. Again and again.

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Tricia Marcella Cimera

Tricia Marcella Cimera

Tricia Marcella Cimera is an obsessed reader and lover of words. Her work has recently appeared in these diverse places: the Buddhist Poetry Review, Dead Snakes, Foliate Oak, Hedgerow: A Journal of Small Poems, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Mad Swirl, Silver Birch Press and Yellow Chair Review, as well as others.Tricia volunteers locally, believes there’s no place like her own backyard, and has traveled the world.She lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois/in a town called St. Charles/by a river named Fox.
Tricia Marcella Cimera

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