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My Dog Was Wrong About You


by Jennifer Donnell


She was your bitch from the start-
wanted a taste of that baby faced cheek, 
licked past the stubble and rested her head on your lap,
burrowed in your blue jeans and gave you the same look I would, later,
as you lay on my bed, my lips on your neck. 

I knew I would never love you the way she already seemed to 
and told you this. I warned that this might be the last time, our first time,
yet you patted my backside, rubbed me- fingers through the twine of my fur. 

You asked for a show. On all fours, I wagged, as if possessing a tail.
I purred, a pup with identity problems, 
trying to be whomever you might like best. 

When it was time to leave, she lingered beside you, 
bidding you to come again. 
I flicked my cat-dog tail, indifferent.
She wanted to lick your face. 

I gazed out the window, as you drove off, 
with the cynicism she'll learn the hard way.



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