For Oliver

When are you going to train your dog?

          questioning, 

          smug, 

          arrogant look.

I look at Oly's frenetic little body –
          so happy to be alive;
          smiles, slobbers, kisses;
          back end waggling, front end twitching.

I tell him to sit,
          he jumps.
I tell him to jump,
          he sits.
I tell him to give kisses –
          he obliges with joyful abandon.

When are you going to train your dog?

He is a wild thing
          that was never sent to school.

This is summer.
          Exactly how many summers does a dog have?

Run, jump and play Oly.
          Class clown is more than enough for me.