by Peter Mladinic
The love of my life told me to fuck off.
It was uncalled for, that’s my side of the story,
where I live. I’ve never owned a firearm.
My two-year old pit Trouble is assault rifle
with legs. Trouble sat next to me.
Clint, a Shepherd mix, approached us.
Her bark a mountain cat’s screech,
10 seconds I knew what a beast is.
When she kisses my mouth her whiskers
tickle. When the love of my life first looked
at me, hazel eyes, dark lashes,
I felt excited. We exchanged numbers.
If she texts again, I’ll text back.
Trouble tore at a big plastic dog
food bag, and left it in the corner of a crate.
Fall is changing to winter.
I met the love of my life on a walking bridge
in winter. She wore a navy blue parka,
wire rim glasses, and carried an orange
backpack. The temperate in the single digits,
she was 19, I was 23, life was great.
© 2025 Peter Mladinic All rights reserved.
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