Dahli Lama

I imagine Charlie as a lapsed Dahli Lama;

just another dog who has recanted their vows

and fallen upon a dish of kibbles

quietly making its own gravy.

Set upon all four elbows, grinning.

Her lips drool.  Her jaws quiver.

Her breathing hastens.  Her toenails skitter.

Now my steps are dogged.

Searching the heavens and my eyes

with her warm, brown doggie gaze,

Charlie’s brain is certainly not like a librarian’s.

For one thing, it runs hot,

and her forehead is covered with hair.

                                                              by Carl Nelson

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