Golden Retriever

Golden Retriever

I want to feel it again and again

and feel it the way I felt it

when I first felt it.  Or no, not

like that, like this: I want to

want to feel it, like climbing

high that first time with no prize

in mind not even the top I want

to dip into the pages  you’ve been

sent to and spend out a coin

we haven’t imagined yet or if

we have we haven’t minted or if

we have we haven’t spent or if

we have  we haven’t spent much of it...

Look, the view is different every

step up or down to the left

or to the right or even especially if

we let ourselves sitting flat on

our backsides our head between

our knees to keep from hyper-

ventilating

I remember holding my breath

while a girl my own age told me: close

your eyes and she grabbed me Heimlich

style and held on held on held on

until my jaw tingled until I was limp

as dying.  Maybe a sensation

like that is as organic as it gets

without the pain, it’s without

concussion it’s wilted as a dove’s wing

or an empty bait bag done in

by the dog when she got lose, how she

tore through that shed and tipped

barrel, barrel, barrel and for weeks

her fur was salt and oil, even

after a dozen and a half trips

to the beach, liquid soap, towels...

another summer day.  No, no

mountains there, or maybe small

ones but I never knew to climb

them.  All this.  What’s it got to do

with seeing?  I’ll tell you I want the glee

of that dog’s face after she’d made

the bait all Jackson Polluck on the walls

I want to freeze the frenzy then

long enough to get her cleaned

up, to accuse a raccoon, (I remember I do

that, and my dad never paid attention

to the dog other than he would’ve

shot her if he’d known, like he’d shot

the beagle after he killed the chickens...)

I want her to look into me like she was

the one saving me with all those trips

to the cove to dunk her to pour

a bottle of Dawn dish soap into

her fur and rub her red coat while

she lapped and lapped and then
panted and panted as we walked

the road home like two old friends

content in their secret, content

in their lives.