The Dog, the Sun and Me

The machine is full of wet clothes
Time to hang them out
Out there is the sun and the dog.

The dog smiles at me and says, ‘Look at the day.’

She aways says that and so does the sun
Unless one of them has eaten something they shouldn’t have
Like a carcass far too rotten—in the case of the dog, which is pretty rare
Or too much entropy—in the case of the sun, which hasn’t happened yet.

Anyway, there they both are, waiting for me so the three of us can go out.

They wonder why I don’t go out a lot more
There’s so much out there
But most of all there’s me, according to the dog, which the sun is okay with.

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