their "ha ha"s beginning when I dressed
for my morning walks,
laughing while they pooped
from the cypress limbs that reach out
over the hood of my Ford Ranger pickup
parked by my door on the busy street.
I’d shoo them to a neighboring pecan tree,
clapping loudly in hopes they’d think it gunfire.
They played along
pretending to be frightened, yet
loyal to their primary privy
laughing all the while.
In time they disabused me
of my egocentric conceit
allowing me entree to a deeper insight:
they were laughing at the irony
of their ancestry, reminding them with
ghostly internal combustion roars
it’s not the size of the dog in the fight...