How my parents hated Go, Dog. Go!
Every night it was the same damned book.
How many times can you exhort
(with any credibility, at least)
those damned dogs to go, driving caps on
and scarves flying out behind?
One night they turned the tables:
"Why don't you read to us?" they said
slyly.
I read. They were unconvinced, for
every night it was the same damned book.
"Let's try something else."
They put
a different book in my hands.
I read.
I had gone, driving cap on and scarf
flying out behind.
Every night it was the same damned book.
How many times can you exhort
(with any credibility, at least)
those damned dogs to go, driving caps on
and scarves flying out behind?
One night they turned the tables:
"Why don't you read to us?" they said
slyly.
I read. They were unconvinced, for
every night it was the same damned book.
"Let's try something else."
They put
a different book in my hands.
I read.
I had gone, driving cap on and scarf
flying out behind.
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