The Roof Garden Ll Poem by Morgan Michaels

The Roof Garden Ll



When it got dark the fireworks started for real, shot from a barge parked down-stream you couldn't see: red, green, blue, one after another after another. Overhead the fiery tendrils trailed down, vanishing before they hit ground, while their acrid smell drifted slowly over the flood. More people turned up and soon there was a crowd broken into chatty groups, each guarding its sovereignty.

Donnie thought the hammock a great place to watch the show from and he was right, he decided, though you needed to sit up to see over the wall. Somebody from California handed him a plastic cup half- filled with cava and suddenly there were two people rumbling in the hammock, than three, then two again. Alone, finally, Donnie looked around for his friends. Twenty feet off stood Mat, talking to an older man with a goatee. The goatee bobbed palely in the dark as he waggled a forefinger for emphasis.

Larry and John leaned against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, watching the show. Leaping from the hammock, Donnie whispered in John's ear, who replied, calmly:

'Sure- why didn't you say so? I have to walk Peppie, anyway'.

He followed him down to the apartment and at the door they met Peppie. The little dog was heavier about the middle than before, thought Donnie. Nonetheless, he jumped around and barked shrilly.

Donnie disappeared and when he got back, sat down in the sofa. Peppie jumped into his lap and began to lick the traces of after-shave from his chin.

'Will ya cut it out', laughed Donnie, 'already'.

Then he looked at Peppie's face closely and was amazed: the little dog's muzzle had turned gray and his eyes were smeared with cataracts. His nose was dry and he seemed to lack bounce.

'John', said Donnie, 'I think Peppie's getting a bit long in the tooth'.

John sighed but agreed, explaining:

'He's ten, now, you know. Here, Peppie. Here, Peps', he called, in a low voice.

The little dog ignored him in a way that made Donnie question its hearing. It continued to lick his chin, frantically. Finally, John...

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