Bedfellows
Saturday morning
6:30 a.m.
36 degrees
they’ve already peed
in the cold, wet grass
just outside the front door
now they’re back
in the warm, soft bed
spoiling into
more rottenness
one is bundled
under the sheets
at my feet
the other sleeps guard
at his master’s shoulder
coiled up tight
like a knotted shoelace
lifts his snow-white
unkempt Schnoodle beard
and bed-headed twisted brows
in a half-dazed stare
his all-expressive eyes
warning
“I’m sleepy…
but I will attack.”
his eyes turn up
to detect any foul motives
like a pair of
pitch-black egg yolks
sitting sideways
atop fried white rims
still,
speculative,
scrutinizing
I’m frozen in place
unblinking,
holding my breath
watching him watch me
I move one finger
his eyes pounce
to the motion
I move it again
his front legs jolt
(issues from a previous life)
my mouth curves
a half-degree smile
of amusement
it’s all over now
he leaps up
all in my face
licking the outside corner
of my bad right eye
feverishly
as he does every morning
his right paw
on his skinny part-poodle leg
that propels his always
prancing-through-the-house
parade gait
now mauling my arm
demanding love
with an urgent itch-like
emergency
he flops down
flips over
contorts awkwardly
wallows himself
into a spiked pretzel
legs pointing the
compass directions
and offers up
a submissive belly
that was
as serious
as a Buckingham Palace guard
as suspecting
as a crime detective
as untrusting
as a suspicious spouse
mere seconds ago
I give a
tight-tummy love rub
but the foot warmer
detects attention
and jealously
tunnels nose-first
up through the covers
nuzzling
his way to the party
crashing it to
claim his share
yep, it’s all over now
Common Threads 
The key to gaining what’s been lost is found
in loving food and sharing it around.
Such logic follows principles of eating:
that loss just gained last week is ever-fleeting.
What is our strange obsession with the pound?
We over-do ourselves into the ground.
We oversleep and overspend as habit.
We see a bauble and take off to grab it.
But when it comes to food, we’re self-defeating,
our forks to lips so hesitantly meeting.
I say we stop not eating: it’s not sound!
Let’s liberate ourselves and be unbound!
For one full day, let’s let loose and indulge.
Let’s lose all fear of Battle of the Bulge!