My little dog had a binky, a soft blue toy he carried everywhere,
upstairs & down, inside & out, into his crate at bedtime, & if he
lost it, he was frantic, tiny black dustmop searching every-
where, coming to me with pleading eyes, but then last week
he really did lose it, perhaps – filthy old thing – tossed by cleaners
or forgotten & buried in two feet of snow, so finally he chose –
instead of the identical blue toy, purchased at the same time
from the same place – a neon pink rubber ball, carried about
in the same way, with the bonus that he can play with it himself,
drop it from the chaise or the top of the stairs & tear off chasing,
but yesterday he left it outside & when he went to collect it,
it had frozen & he couldn’t keep it in his mouth, picked it up,
dropped it, came back to beg me to get it for him, so finally
I put on my coat and boots & went out to get it myself & it was
so cold it burned my hand & as I stood from picking it up, moving it,
warming it from hand to hand, I realized this is so human, so like me,
this terrible attachment to inessential things, even things that burn,
not only things, but people, wanting that person, that man, him him
him, I want him, even if I’m burned by his coldness.
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