*

He came into my life
with his fuzzy mustache clown smile,
sorry and happy at once
he was running, just running
down that road by himself,
singular --he seemed
bent on self-destruction

then he flashed his look at me
as I was driving home in my new car
at first, I didn't know what he was
it was raining, mucky, with poor visibility
he was matted thick with mud
but I saw those eyes,
and I knew,
Yes, I just knew,  
I had to see.

I stopped and called him
he came right up to me, smiling
languid dark eyes with tear boogers,
the gray old vagabond
had me with one look.
I cringed,  knew my partner
wouldn't be happy. I said to myself
"What the flip.
He's coming home."
oh well, for the new car upholstery

Shaking all over,
eyes smiling to appreciate mine,
I examined him closely;
wanted to laugh out loud
and cry all at once;
He was so utterly forlorn,
he was an honest grifter,
deep, intelligent eyes
made me a sucker for
the drama they held.

I invited him to come to my place.
Gladly he accepted, for he wasn't shy
He reeked of garbage cans
and poor toilet habits
I got the
"Oh my god, what've you done?"
but worth it
--knew that was coming

In my living-room light,
I could see the wounds
deep gashes split one leg
the poor old boy was covered
with stinking sores.

charcoal-gray, long-limbed,
with matted filthy whiskers,
I decided to shower him,
(with squawking background yada-yada)
he complied willingly
--took three days
to get the stains out of the tub.
(yep, lots more blah-blah-blah)
--worth it

But after his bath,
I cleaned his wounds
named him just what he was: Hobo
the old dog and I danced together
many-a-day for he could stand, dance,
and smile like no dog
I ever met, or ever would--
with his laughing wide grins.

*