John W. McEwers (6/20/1980 / Nova Scotia, Halifax)
Hooray for Carnival Dogs
Three trips on the tilt-o-whirl,
and I'm pegging balloons with darts
and I feel a motion of commotion and a hot locomotion
rubbing furiously fast upon my leg.
I look down to see a mutt,
going to town on my favorite festival khakis.
I almost drop my corn dog
which may have cooled the hot dog
putting friction burns in my calf,
but I shoved the whole thing in my mouth,
pushed at frisky fido and shouted
'Hluoaauahoa HngoOO Eeeahih! '
and I swear that Carnival dog must've
heard a lot of corndogese in his day
because he heeled, rolled over, and stayed
right there with me all day,
and we must've just had too much in common,
because he followed me home from the carnival
to live with me.
Ten years went by with him as a faithful companion,
until he died last week.
I miss you, Gordy.
Comments about this poem (Hooray for Carnival Dogs by John W. McEwers )
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