Popeye: a canto ...

'You can't Can't CAN'T

get attached to them all.'

a dog soul surgeon cares

for what he sees and then

comes clean (hands, heart,

all of him) turning to leave.

But I can't Can't CAN'T

stop thinking about you:

Your eyes jumping, Your

slow breath / fast tail when

my arms take your chest

and my forehead, your head.

Can't stop your runny nose:

that sometimes-death for a

shelter dog when the house

is full. The house was full, you

were dripping out of those

holes – your paws in mine, too.

I'm a long-haul volunteer; you're

another passing stray. But pedigrees

lie: there's more between 'You are

what you are; I am what I am.'

Be there when I come back,

Popeye – I'll take you if I can.

*

I can't Can't CAN'T wait. Where

is he? “Rescue picked him up.”

Which one? “I can't say, for

privacy – I Can't let you know.”

My clawing heart: angry, light.

I love you, Pop; I'm letting go.