I covered her, against the cold, <br />a towel bearing the insignia of <br />The Radisson Hotel, all lily white, <br />I had been right that day in 98, <br />to question what they charge, <br />to stay a night on cotton sheets. <br />All night I'd take the cubes <br />in bucketloads from the machine, <br />ice comes in handy in those nights, <br />and samples of Camay, a special soap, <br />and dove, this time it was shampoo, <br />a shower cap, a glass, a Louffa sponge, <br />no, leave the bible, I won't need it <br />and Mister Gideon would be a man in pain. <br />Two towels would be fine and even out <br />the signature on Visa, pay your frickin' way. <br />My dog, she looks at me with eyes that do defy <br />what poets, sculptors, painters have observed, <br />I'd gladly fetch the golden fleece itself, <br />to cover her, to pat her wild and scruffy hair <br />just for the look of love, unmatched, and not to share.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-dog-21/
