Kobe Bryant Died Today
My fat dog sniffs the backyard
wet dirt and weeds, a breeze
brings new scents
my daughter, my nephew fight
about chalk and favorite colors
and color of chalks pictures
the cement is cool on my dog's
fat belly; truth in his eyes
when he tells me he loves me
in his thick, Mexican accent
chalk dust pilings
blue
gray
purple, yellow
red
certain words change
when you learn to speak dog
the way you first spoke
to your mom but before then
when you first made her laugh
but before then when you first came
from cosmic dust, swept up, and dumped
in the wet womb of Midwest trust
you feed him and clean him
and ask him what love is
he forgot, distracted
by the alley rat stealing his trash
and talking all that shit