Buddy

 Days are long, disturbing

roads are wet they slip

red lights, cameras

slow him down

he clicks a music fix.

Tickets are expensive

the airport's far away

a passing sign is missing

red neon letter A.

While the engine rattles

fumes float up his way

he notices his sticker

expired yesterday.

He smells his destination

depression's moving in

a giant hole right up the road

surveys his apartment. 

But Buddy's up there waiting

pacing, needs his food

wet kisses when the door opens

mad scramble to big poo. 

Headlights in the parking lot

blacktop reflections slide

everyone is home again

hooded, silent eyes. 

Buddy loves his little bowl

his squeeky toy that lights

curled up on the coach he rests

while neighbors upstairs fight. 

Dude should take a shower

call the dentist soon

 grabs a pack of camels

 his six of beer the tube.

Buddy opens up one eye

a storm rat tats the panes

it's  magic blanket dreamer time

with snore drum then the rain.