Saturday Poem by Justin Tallman

Fluffy white dog with a strange but charismatic face, has to unload. So it's the clink of metal as the
leash meets collar. Out the door. The Summer night is strangely calm for a Saturday. Life is probably
in the bars, it's not quite two A.M. yet. No sign of staggering legs shuffling down the sidewalk. At a
tree the dog lifts his leg in a stereostypical canine stance. Right onto to the tree next to a parked
pick up truck who expresses his left-wing agenda and love for 'Our Lord and Savior' through bumper
stickers bought at an anonymous gas station. Down the block is a speck of Saturday. Hipsters rage
with the taste of Pabst Blue Ribbon. The windows leak the trendy tunes. Their gauged earlobes jiggle
to the rhythms that you've probably never heard before. Drop a few brown chunks of successfully
digested dogfood, ignoring the plastic bag in the back pocket. The hipsters are living the life that I am
too preoccupied with walking this mutt to live. They'll get over it.