By Jim Bowman
Two dizzy females of an age, 7 a.m. OP ave. with shaggy, frisky dog. They fussing with him, I pass briskly, dog leaps at me, bangs (closed) mouth on my hand.
Bumped me, neither bit nor fastened teeth. Women full of apologies, bending over the animal, looking up at me intermittently. What the fuck? I expostulated, turning back several times as I briskly walked away.
Oh the pain of it, psychical not physical. That beast gave me a painful reminder of my mortality. An ode is in order.
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