That big blue thing she calls a duffel
and into it, she stuffs and stuffles
is still upon the luggage rack
even though she just came back.
It’s presence in my old dog space
disturbs the peace
It’s out of place
When I forget that it’s still there
It startles me and makes me swear
And even though it’s empty now
It still brings sweat to my old dog brow
to imagine what it is conveying
Is she going or is she staying?
I really miss her when she’s gone
But not the duffel
It’s satan’s spawn.
I wish that she would put away
That big scary thing in an old dogs way.
This message I’m sending without kerfluffle
Please move that thing or I’ll poop in your