I’m choking down dark roasted coffee
from a cheap ceramic mug
that reads “World’s best dad” on it, standing
sleepily on the front porch
with a newspaper in hand. The neighbor’s
Shih Tzu is squatting on
my lawn again, but I’m too tired to notice,
flicking night-dust from my eyes.
On these summer mornings, the clouds
look fluffy and yellow
like scrambled eggs floating in a pan.
All I can think of is breakfast
as the neighbor whistles for his mangy
mutt to come inside.
Whenever I confront him about putting
the dog in his own yard
he becomes defensive, whines about how
it’s not his fault. I point out
that, as the owner, it is and he best learn
to keep his problems on a leash.