All Dogs Go 2 Heaven - Poem by Richard Flappa
With my eyes closed,
I let my hands slick over the shapes in front of me
What do the colors mean?
And why have I come to this place?
And why are there dogs all over the house?
Eating the corn dog slowly,
I meditate upon my purpose.
In my dream there were three of them:
Men dressed in calico white,
With shapes for eyeballs
And black holes where their mouths should have been.
But that still didn't explain the mess in the bathtub.
Even here, in my darkest hours,
I still cannot recognize myself.
I miss my soft, white slippers,
My zebra striped bathrobe
And the towels I used to wrap around
My head. But that was never enough to block
Him out. I locked the door,
And took another bite of the corn dog,
Tried to suck the texture and the color out of
My skin, as he screamed for me to
Let him in.
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