All Dogs

All Dogs

That scent—

  I’m like a bloodhound.

Nose to the floor

  and I’ll find it every time.

I’m relentless,

  I know,

But there’s something

  to be said about persistence.

I find sometimes I lose myself—

  I blame the change of season

    A certain smell

        The way the wind brushes my face

           and lifts my hair.

Excuses?  Realities?

  I don’t know.

Something, though, for sure

  is certain:

Women, somehow, serve as

  Both the solution

    And the problem

        Always.

And here we’re left

  to chase our tails

  in this vicious circle.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaamen!