Happy as a Dog

Not knowing jesus

from moses or mohammed

or caring what anyone thinks

I could be happy as a dog.

I’d attend to my dishes

(food and water)

and the special places I oughta

lay my feces.

And if I had just three dog-wishes

I would choose not to be blessed or damned.

I’d wish also for a bigger tail

to beat like a drumstick on the floor

if somebody spoke my name.

And I’d want a houseful of stinks

to ponder while I’d snooze and twitch

on the rug in front of the kitchen door

waiting for someone to scratch my itch.