Yearning

I do not want to be remembered for my urine. In this I differ from the chowchow and Welsh corgi who yearn to soak the earth, to imbue the foggy air, with their unique pee scents, who nose through the streets in search of smells of dogs gone by, and recorded for canine history until rain rinses hydrant and trunk. If only I could so shed skin or salt tear as I tread my neighborhood and thus plant in friends’ hearts my deeds my ways, my thinking, my art— civil equivalent of dogs’ liquid legacy.