When the dog soaks my carpet
(I just took her out!),
I fantasize a machine
space age sleek on an uncluttered counter
dispensing a rare roast caffeine.
And I dream of a me -
a swish of sibilant silk
and heel clicks precise on the floor.
A woman spare and serene
like I can scarce hope to be -
but that's what dog piss daydreams are for.
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads