Two months ago
he had surgery

and was wrapped
in a body wrap.

He was told to
wear it for a couple

of weeks to pro-
mote healing.

Two months later,
now and then,

he still wears it.
It feels like you.

He stopped at the wooden
bowl factory, a place he had
never been before. In the dis-
play room he saw carved bowls
of wood native to the area. The
owner said the bowls are made
from felled wood, potentially go-
ing to waste. He spied the section
of bowls with imperfections and
found a beautiful walnut bowl
with a minor flaw. He said, “I’ll
take this one, beautiful but flaw-
ed — just like me.”

The man had his annual physical
      and it was thumbs up, all points go.
             He’s a year older than the temporary

occupant, considerably lighter in
     weight and a life-long exerciser, but
          we are told that the occupant is in

the best shape of any president in
     history, maybe any human. The vice-
         occupant says the occupant is in

incredibly GREAT shape and, yes,
     it is just that — incredible, just like
          everything else that comes out of

their mouths. The veep can’t recall
     being put on alert when the occu-
          pant was rushed off to the hospital

for reasons yet to be divulged just
     like his taxes. Perhaps the veep
          should take whatever it is that the

occupant takes to stay a stable
     genius as the occupant holds the
          water glass with both hands, teeters

at the dais and limps off the stage
     while the man celebrates his physical
          exam with a wonderful summer cycle.

We try to remain hopeful while
in the grip of the occupant’s lunacy
— someone who is so infantile
he stomps to destroy community,

and in his tantrums sputters gibberish
that his base takes as holy writ;
they grab assault rifles while feverish
to go out and kill in a misguided fit.

Is there no end to the insanity
of someone who is so hollow,
who operates completely on vanity
expecting everyone to follow?

There is only one recourse
for us citizens that is left.
Something we cannot force
but something that demands our best.

And that one sacred, cherished recourse?
For all, all, all to vote, vote, vote, of course!!!

The dogs tell us about love, life and
death. They prepare us if we just look.
The big ones tell us most quickly be-
cause they don’t last as long as little
ones. We’ve had four big ones and are

now on our fifth — all Chocolate Labs.
The first at ten jumped out of the car
and froze his hind legs. He cried so
hard on the day we had to put him
down. He heard my voice as I entered

the vet’s office and he waled. And
then we did, too. The second, the
first of the rescues, lasted a year
giving us his unconditional love and
appreciation before the cancer went

to his brain. We figure he was about
ten. The third, another rescue, was
the one who ran like the wind and
wouldn’t come out of the water when
we called. By grace we had him for

six years. His throat froze with
paralysis. He suffocated. We figure
he was about ten. The fourth rescue
lasted four years. He would sit and
stare at us with kindness and over-

whelming appreciation. If I didn’t
feel well and would lie down on the
couch, he would come and lie down
next to me. He collapsed from liver
cancer and sepsis. We figure he was

about ten. And now we have our first
female, a magnificent breeder dog.
She was six when we adopted her. Now
eight, she has significant arthritis
in her hips. We know what’s coming.

Because of their love and their lives,
their suffering and death, we know
what is coming for us. They tell us
everything we need to know. All we
have to do is listen and look.