A guest post by Nick Ruva.

Since You’ve Been Gone

The street noise is louder now that you are gone. Horns and sirens blare their warning through glass. I do my best to tune out the life animated below my windows as I hide under sheets for just-five- minutes-more, two hours longer. You once told me this city suffocated you. It drowns me.

My Furry Reason

With an impatient look, and a whine, I know it’s time for a walk. You’re my furry reason to leave the house. Somedays, the only reason. Your exuberance is one I haven’t felt in years, one I fear I may never know again, but through you. You force me to slow down, hurry up, live.

Summer in the City

Bleating notes to chaotic downtown streets through a reed that sounds far past its usefulness, you point your horn to us and squall. As a kid, I watched your predecessors blow to subway cars and transit authorities. Today, most avoid your squeaking overture, steering around you. I close my eyes and listen to you wail.

Nobody Is Watching

Did I ever tell you my dad and I saw a UFO one late night in an Albertson’s parking lot? That was when XXXXXXXX was still XXXXXXXX. That was before he told me the government was watching his every move. Perhaps the only reason they don’t watch mine is I didn’t believe him.