Of My Life
By: Husam (Sam) Salman
In the backyard, next to the trash barrels, my dog
relaxed – stretched her paws out as though
she were leaping while lying down.
In her spectacular dream - that we call life,
she’d casually glance over to see if we were
staring. The wag lets us know she saw us
seeing her.
It’s a casual autumn day, October
it’s been over 10 years since I’ve started
my journey. My friend holds my hand
reassuring me that tonight’s show will be
“Fabulous!”
My nerves ride like waves crashing
Mediterranean in size, ebbs with dim wishes,
the maelstrom, the end game, the worried trek
and the final blow. Runway.
Beyond the skyline
like cattle being herded
down the boulevards
we drive just as fast.
Outside, on my rug-covered patio,
Stefano smokes his “last” cigarette.
Inside, I dive head first into a cup of coffee,
deciphering the future with every drop.
Part of my mind wants to be a child
again; to go back to that moment in time,
so that I can throw my dog the ball
one more time, to have her eyes fix
on us once more and the wagging
pleasure that ensues, and comedic
reluctance to get up at all.
The other part is happy I’m growing up.
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