Wet Towels (Ode to the Surfer's Dog)
No limits.
No fears.
I wonder,
no sense?
She vaults across waves--
foam spray
"Splash!"
What is she doing?
She knows she can't surf...
Well
I know--
at least,
but I still have to follow.
The hot stuffy car,
her windows wound down,
panting and drooling,
I hate the smell of wet towels.
by Ramona Lea Mahoney.
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