To A Dog That Followed Me This Morning Poem by michael hogan

It can hurt to be enabled
in wellness, too.
You taught me that.

Though some might think
this dog is idea
or even if there was
a real dog
the man was merely adjunct
it doesn't change the fact

you followed
this morning
down the hill from Walnut Creek
all the way to the BART train.
I stopped finally and spoke.
What I said was unimportant:
some sly condescension
you should have mistrusted
but didn't
You thought: Already the day is special.

I went on and horns
blared as you crossed
against the light
still following
past the construction site
the muddy parking lot.
This was serious following!
I worried for you then.
Although something about you coming still
appealed at the Assisi part of me,
enough was enough.

Go home, I said, and turned
and didn't look back.

That's wrong. I did.
I saw you standing there
as I waited for the train:

myth of coyote
sign the anticipated run of events
not all there is, memory
of my last dog buried
beneath a cottonwood in Arizona
other dogs I've known
moral arithmetic of my life
carcasses in the earth.

Go home, go home, all you soft-eyed
followers with love on your mind.
The traffic will not always stop for you
there may not always be witnesses.
Do you hear me, dammit? Go home!