Walking Harley past the UPS truck
a couple blocks from home,
the UPS driver calls out
“Hey, where is the little black dog?”
I have to tell him,
“She’s in Heaven.”
I don’t believe in God but it covers it.
He says, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
I accept his condolences,
“Thank you.”
I want to cry for the rest of the walk home,
though Harley’s trip trap walk is as cute as ever.
Does Isabel mind that I’m walking Harley?
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