THE TROUBLING ENCOUNTER
I’m heading up Market Street when I see a woman
about ten yards in front of me
dragging a medium sized dog on a leach
that is shitting as they go.
As I walk up alongside of them I immediately notice
the scars on the woman’s face, her sunken eyes,
and her stained, tattered clothes.
I’m assuming that she’s homeless;
the dog an unfortunate companion.
“It seems he couldn’t wait!” I say to the woman.
To which she responds, “He gimme nuthin but trouble!”
Peering down at the dog, I observe the saddest looking face
I’ve ever seen on an animal.
“I’d take him if I had room. . .”
“You wouldn’t want ‘im. He give you nuthin but trouble!”
As I continue on my way,
I’m feeling nuthin but troubled.