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enjoy this writing from Brian Looney in the free 6" x 9" 2017 PDF file chapbook: New Creations Out in Public (click on the front cover image or the title text to download the free PDF file)				You can also order this as a 2017 6" x 9" perfect-bound ISBN# book! Click on the book cover or this title to get New Creations Out in Public as a paperback book at any time!

Socialized

Brian Looney

A new park opened just last week. They fenced it for a solid year. Something about the grass. I blessed it with my presence, and the city was pleased. Tomorrow I may curse it, because it works both ways, and the city will not be pleased. At the park, all is need to know. But if I see another dog I’m like to shriek. Make it sit, roll over, smile. Good, good boy. Joyous wags. Lob a treat. Swish.

“What kind of dog is that?” Enter conversation. Wish I was a dog. Eat and sleep and sniff your cooch. “Once I had a poodle.” I loved it, yes I did, I swear I did. Can’t believe what happened to it. “What a precious pup. Reminds me of my Shnookems. Would you like to...” Blessings today but curses tomorrow. Paralysis tomorrow. Fighting to the surface.

Tomorrow, we watch the dog take a dump, chatting casually, nonchalant. It squats in one spot and silently pushes the offal out; its porkrind snout locked in a half-open, tongue-lolling, shit-licking grin. She scoops it up with clear complexion, with peaceful, yogic fingers.

She glares at me for spitting on the grass: spit for spit’s sake, to amp my blood and up my skill, to purge the nervousness and plunge into performance and perfection. “Don’t looked so shocked, you fragile dear. It’s all part of the routine. Woah your dog is at it again. Whatchya feed that thing? Cheese?” I mush the spittle with my shoe and return to work. Bourgeois bitch.

See, I know a thing or two about a dog’s digestive tract, but they know precious little about an artist’s salivary glands, having never encountered it before. Let me explain. Artists of my type and description tend to salivate and, growing tired of the swallow, opt to blow it out in filthy gobs onto the urine-soaked crab grass at the local (dog?)park. This has a renewing effect on the creative brain.

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