Anorexic beauty queen
elephant's in the room. Inauthentic royalty between elegance
and gloom. When your appetite gets serious, the curious
will turn to you. Wait for me I wait for you in our duplicitous
cocoon. Somebody feed the elephant starving in the
room.
Take a hit, pass it on. Elephant sees no wrong.
Kumbaya, sing along, Savior's coming soon. Domestic goddess
finds love in a vacuum.
Slavery is peace of mind elephant
froze in time. Bravery is not the climb or leading from
behind. Fall down, get back up. History will be unkind.
Nobody sees the elephant, the intelligent are blind.
Lonely in your company
introverted to extreme. Pour me a cup of tea light some
nicotine. Elephant needs a stimulant metaphorically obscene.
When dystopia seems heavenly and beauty queen intervenes chemically,
whats a man to do? I turn around turn to you, what do I have to
lose? If quicksand didn't cling to shoes, I'd probably sink
with you.
Goodbye, sadistic soulmate, ego in distress.
My pugilistic surrogate, best friend and mistress. Come on, taste my tears from
our wasted years then tell me what to do. Elephant out of its
element and this experiment is through. We cannot breathe yet
we won't leave, whats a man to do?
Somebody kill the
elephant standing in the room.
First dog I ever owned was a gray Australian Shepherd
mixed breed named Smoky. I named him after the Burt Reynolds
movie.
Smoky was my adventure dog. Well,
adventure in 2nd grade terms.
I was living in small town,
USA. We had four seasons. White Christmases. A 4th
of July parade down Main Street. Two churches and one medical
clinic in town. It was an idyllic place for a young boy like
me.
I spent my summer days hiking up to the Indian ruins where
I searched for pottery and arrowheads. Armed with a steak knife
and the overly energetic Smoky by my side, I always felt safe during
those treks deep into the forest.
My memories of Smoky
are dim. I recall he enjoyed chasing cars, going on
adventures with me and oddly, he preferred being kept in the yard as
opposed to an inside dog. Mostly, I remember my love for that
dog and his loyalty towards
me.
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When
5th grade was approaching, mom told me we were moving back to the
city. Back to the life I knew the first seven years of my
life. Mom needed a good paying job and another fresh
start. She needed to escape the drama and abuse she encountered
in Small Town, USA.
It's funny thinking of my mom
when she was in her early thirties. She partied a lot and dated
so many men. A LOT OF MEN.
Never good men, though.
At the time, I didn't realize that every decision she made,
she made them with my best interests at heart. I viewed
the constant chaos and ever changing life decisions as being
irresponsible aimed at making me miserable. I don't
recall resenting her but I do remember using these constant life
changes to manipulate her.
You cant afford to
buy me a new bike? You just took me out of school away
from all my friends to move to the big city so you could make more
money?
And then mom would buy me that bike. Just
like that. Years later, I learned it was her 3rd part time job
that paid for that
bike.
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We arrived back into the city, back into the house I grew up in.
It was relatively a modest house stuck in a HUD neighborhood with a
nice backyard for Smoky. The neighbors were just about
all Native Americans living rent free and on welfare. All I
knew about them is they loved beer. My only chore was early
every morning going yard to yard and collecting aluminum cans.
That was our grocery money.
Eventually, mom lost the house. It was
valued at $28,000 at the time. Nonetheless, she was proud of
it.
As was
I.
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We
moved into a mobile home temporarily. It was at this time, we
had to part ways with Smoky. Smoky the adventure dog needed a
yard. He needed to roam. He needed what we could not
provide.
We were new members at a church. Mom placed an
announcement in the weekly bulletin letting other families know our
dog was available.
Before too long, Smoky had a new home.
A 10 acre yard with horses and two other dogs. Smoky was going
to live the rest of his life as intended for adventure dogs.
I
was heartbroken. Smoky was a huge part of my childhood
and my best friend during those years in Small Town, USA.
Mom
did her best to allow me to visit him a couple times a month.
Over time, those bi-monthly visits became
never.
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Years later, the summer before high school, mom said
she had a surprise for me. So, we took a 30 minute
drive to the outskirts of town. We pulled into a dusty
driveway and as soon as I exited her banana colored Maverick without
a muffler, an elderly overweight dog jumped on me.
IT WAS
SMOKY!
I recognized that joy and he recognized my awkward
disposition. It was obvious he was near the end of his life but
it was even more apparent, that he had lived a long and fulfilling
one.
I spent an hour with my adventure dog just walking
the grounds of his new and last home, a dairy farm. He
stayed by my side every step of the way. Just like those
days in Small Town, USA.
We left that place and of course, I
knew it was the last time I would ever see that joyful and ever so
curious once best friend.
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It's
always heartbreaking to lose someone or something you love.
Sometimes, it's just better for them that we do. I suppose a
true selfless love will always include wanting that other entity to
be happy.
I will always remember Smoky the adventure
dog fondly for those years of love and loyalty he gave me; without
pause. I am proud that he was able to end his life full of joy
and loved by someone....
Even if I was no longer the provider
I had once been.
