Loyalty

Written by James Tate | 
Loyalty

This is the hardest part:
When I came back to life
I was a good family dog
and not too friendly to strangers.

I got a thirty-five dollar raise
in salary, and through the pea-soup fogs
I drove the General, and introduced him
at rallies.
I had a totalitarian approach
and was a massive boost to his popularity.

I did my best to reduce the number of people.

The local bourgeoisie did not exist.

One of them was a mystic
and walked right over me
as if I were a bed of hot coals.

This is par for the course-
I will be employing sundry golf metaphors
henceforth, because a dog, best friend
and chief advisor to the General, should.

While dining with the General I said,
"Let's play the back nine in a sacred rage.

Let's tee-off over the foredoomed community
and putt ourselves thunderously, touching bottom.
"
He drank it all in, rugged and dusky.

I think I know what he was thinking.

He held his automatic to my little head
and recited a poem about my many weaknesses,
for which I loved him so.