You can bet on a downpour of rain in our interminable waiting room this afternoon.
It’s been sunny for seven straight days here, and my elbow never acts up like this when good weather is on the horizon (if we could indeed see the horizon from here). Cover up the magazines, we don’t want those National Geographics to lose their sheen after so many years of being in near-mint condition.
If it doesn’t matter much,
we can throw our crusts
into the rain and watch them
get soggy right by the dog
whose house doesn’t have a roof.
Come to think of it, the dog
will try to eat those crusts
before too long, but they’ll fall apart
once they touch his teeth,
slopping on the grass and
swirling in puddles at his feet.
If the dog could talk, he would
probably say how he hasn’t eaten
since dinnertime, and an intact snack
would have been nice right there,
but he understands that life
sometimes doesn’t offer easy rewards.