my big berfday wish,
blown out on a candle,
stuck in an ice cream sandwich.
one small treat,
one small candle,
one small day.
what's the likelihood of a noble djinn,
a genie-meanie all miney, 'mo,
catching a ride on the wind to the woodsly goodness,
just in time t cross paths my my concentrated intentions,
hopes and dreams,
and unspoken desires?
what's real is that i have a thick-set manly little barbarian battle-beast,
with little-to-no regard for whatever day it is in human time.
this is what berfdays are like now:
cute, for sure,
but not exactly what i had in mind.
crabtree wants all of my undivided attention,
always, in all ways, all the time, needy, needy, greedy in my face,
all over the place, with no personal space-
a non-stop supply of cookies and bones and other edible distractions.
it's a whole lot of fun, i s'pose,
trying to squeeze in my own agenda, around the boisterous burly bull-terrible
terrier tendencies of my little man.
we have an arrangement, in a sense.
i have to get better at everything, and faster,
or he'll interject, infect, and ruin every last incremental inch and instance,
and turn it into excrement.
never quiet, never soft.....