on our walk
this morning.
It was mostly bile
just bright yellow
spots on the side-
walk. Like little
suns lighting
up an otherwise
gray sky, his puke
pooled and appeared
almost pleasant.
Like the car fire
I saw the other day
that burnt blue
and purple and
powerful as it
consumed the whole
vehicle and the
attentions of every
person who drove
past it. This poem
is about light, is about
all the places we can
find light if we just
try harder to find it.
It’s something new
I’m trying with my
life, which, sure
has a lot to do
with turning 40
but what doesn’t?
Look, the sky here
is clear and the day
is that perfect mix
of cool air and
warm sun. Days
like these are few
and far between
in the American
South and so I was
really trying to
enjoy myself as I
walked the dog
first one extra block
and then another.
But I overworked
him and he puked.
Everybody in line
at the taco truck
breathed in heavy
and let the smell
of eggs and potatoes
and jamon fill
their heads with
a kind of revelry
usually reserved
for god or being
naked with someone
you love. I picked
him up and carried
him back to the house.
It was a nice moment
because he doesn’t
usually let me do it.
Everybody in line
at the taco truck
smiled when they
saw us and finally
I knew exactly why.

BJ Love teaches English and creative writing at the Emery/Weiner School in Houston, TX. His poems have been published in Gulf Coast, The North American Review, and elsewhere. 

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