WEBVTT

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Today, I must write a new poem.

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You say in the morning,
about the black dog

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who was my solitude.

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You should write about the dog
who was your joy, I advise.

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And already, I can see it
becoming part of the poem.

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But today, you're in melancholy.

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Hardly laugh at jokes,
and just don't see the dog

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as one of your characters.

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A fool, an oaf fitting only
for lullabies, limericks.

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And you have to write a
serious, thoughtful text.

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So me and the dog
are left on this side

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of inconceivable reality.

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While you and the
dog are on the other.

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And the only place we can
all meet is in this poem.

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