Bird Dog

(Gutsy, bluesy, sung with humor)

wet grass

We made it like rabbits

Time before there was Time

Thumping along in the wet grass.

 

We had a deal in those days

About never trying

To make it Real

Make it Feel

Make it Steel

But just to Make It.

 

Why couldn’t you leave well-enough alone?

The rabbits in the grass

Have thumped away into the past

Because you couldn’t leave a good thing alone.

 

I don’t want no peacock

Who struts his stuff at work then

Drags his technicolor tail home

 

Haven’t you said,

“Domestic bliss is a language

That is Dead

Never Read

Bad in Bed

It’s a fable”

 

Why couldn’t you leave well-enough alone?

Boy, you know birds in a cage

Always get to look their age

If you’d only left a good thing alone

 

I want to find me a bird dog

A happy wet-nosed woofer

We would roll in the hay

Letting it lay

Making it play

And just Making It.

The Tale

I got nothin’ to say to you, man.

I walked around in front of him and pushed my index finger into his chest. He stopped as though I had pushed a button and his eyes flicked my way then off again. He stepped back. Then he stepped to the side and moved away. I started toward him and his walk became a trot and then a full-on run. He was gone.

I stood there a moment, confused. I had needed to tell him something vital, but he just wouldn’t hear it. What was I supposed to do now?

I turned back to my original direction. And here he came. Here he came.

He was the one. The one who would listen.

I stepped forward to tell him.