My evening..

I am having a beer,
reading something good and looking forward to
a quiet evening of some good Mexican music.

Milo, my dog, joins me and enjoys hearing me whistling,
but, silently, asks me how I’m doing, if I’m ok.
I think he senses something is wrong, but, not, I feel very fucking good.
I tell him I’m ok,..just been thinking about a lot of things, like poetry,
my life, past and present and how lucky I feel to be next to him.

At times I feel bad because I don’t ask how he’s doing,
but tonight I did and he barks back and said to me;
wow dude, thanks for asking, about time mother fucker, then, runs away.!

Crazy shit.

Fidel.