waddle from sidewalk to street,
to benches and patches of grass and concrete.
they’re silly yet serious, strange but true.
blue eyes that wait for you, walk with you,
accompany time.
some purposefully walk with a limp for attention,
who some say stole that shtick
from an old lab in Plaza de Armas,
who some say stole it
from a dead pug in Viña.
the nameless, ageless, stray dogs of Santiago
smooth over potholes and cracks with ease,
tracking taste and scent back to origin.
some fumble the delivery,
or the process –
or
whatever.
some master a craft, a skill.
some wear sweaters in winter, sweat in summer -
most howl and sing.
some ying when you yang,
some stress the technique,
some just shrug it off.
the nameless, ageless, stray dogs of Santiago
are parents, teachers, elders, and wise.
they are preachers, prophets, and poets -
historians of street beat life.
they are the nameless,
ageless,
stray dogs
of Santiago.
Author Bio:
Watt Burns is a poet and playwright from Milwaukee, WI, living in New York City. He has been published in Return to the Gathering Place of the Waters, Edify Fiction, Crux Magazine, In Layman's Terms, Cream City Review, and more. He holds a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and he once saved a kitten from a busy highway in Atlanta.