Nicky said I couldnt write, shes got a charming
sense of social etiquette given shes a bitch
(the canine sort, cant spell for shit or even write
a word) but then she has the most expressive eyes.
So what she said was no surprise, shed heard
my lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws
on my knee and fixed me with that knowing stare.
It said, bear with me, you know Im right, you cant write
to save yourself, it might be better if you used the time
instead to feed me diced raw meat its in the
fridge beside the sweet potato. With that notion
running through my head Im thus excused
from writers plight although Id have to have
the last hurrah. Snick (my warm diminutive
for Nicky), I said, get off my lap,
youre way too fat for meat.
Perhaps youd like share my pasta carbonara.
© I.D. Carswell
Carbonara eyes
written byIvan Donn Carswell
© Ivan Donn Carswell