The mangled purple ball
bounces off the planks, smacks
the little white dog's nose.
He shakes his head,
dives behind the hollyhocks,
bites and brings it back,
his plumy tail waving.
I kick again. Thwack
and bite and back again.
His pink tongue dangles.
He's not building equity,
or obsessed with hair loss;
he hasn't noticed the drug dealers
moving in next door;
doesn't care how much
our taxes have gone up this year.
On the street in front of the house,
folks rev their engines, heading home.
Work day over, people honk, curse,
squeal their brakes. Every dog on the block
barks and barks. Kick, thump, slap.
The Westie grins and runs.

For Duggan

"

Linda M. Hasselstrom, who was at the very first Marshall Festival, writes, ranches, and conducts writing retreats for women on the South Dakota ranch homesteaded by her grandfather, a Swedish cobbler, in 1899. Her website, www.windbreakhouse.com, provides details about her published poetry and nonfiction; contact her at info@windbreakhouse.com.