Waiting For Life’s Movie

The orange color drains from the ice

in my screwdriver like the blood from

the eye at the start of a 007 film.

Through the thick glass bottom I watch

one of my neighbor’s dogs trot down

my dirt driveway.  He’s not supposed

to be here and if I show myself he

will hot-paw it through the hole

in the fence to his own compound.

But I don’t show myself, I just watch

until I think of him as a movie extra. 

He has no idea what’s going on, no part

to play.  He’s just been told to walk down

a driveway behaving like a dog, which he

does to perfection. The cameras rolls. 

I have no lines, either.  I just watch expecting

the movie to begin.  But it never does.

FG           11/17/2015