"Hot Streak."
Actually, it's ridiculous to opine
on what kind of a dog I would be were I ever a dog,
as I don't contain within me half enough life to power
a dog.
I would be a dead dog, that's what kind.
Or maybe a mere industrial object
boasting a low grade animation, some odd beep or flicker
like a dryer or a bulb.
So sure I could see myself as a bulb, the only ones still
offering light in an otherwise burnt out fixture bolted hard
to a row house porch and all those moths with no other place
to die.
Can't they murder themselves on somebody else?
Can't they have sent their numbers to the Great North
where there's only dark and live out
their life untempted by glare and die when they're made to
and trouble no orb?