by Jon Berger
I will pick up your five-thousand-dollar pure-bred Saint Bernard Tyrannosauruses Rex Mountain Dog and chuck it into the sun and your dog will love me for it
You shill
Or I mean shell
Or I mean hollow
Or I mean obtuse
Or I mean 401K house cat with a premium Netflix account and a job that feels more like daycare
Anyways…
I love picking up large dogs like they are little babies and I carrying them around
Introducing them to the world from my arms
I recently picked up a 120-pound dog
The dog became very calm and looked at me like I was crazy and then the dog
Looked around the room in awe. Dog eyes wide. Dog eyes darting from me to floor to ceiling to the new vastness of their elevated surroundings. The dog snuggling up to my chest and enjoying the feeling of being small
This happens every time I pick up a large dog
I carried the dog outside and we peered into the horizon of cornfields for the first time
Then I sat the dog down and we wrestled in the grass together and I gave him a tummy rub
All the dogs in the neighborhood love me and nobody asks why
But if you ask around town
You better lock your doors
You better tell all your friends on Facebook
You better climb to the tippy top of your support system
You better go see your therapist
You better turn on the news
You better say a prayer to the president
You better halt the family barbecue in your backyard or whatever
You better grab your torches and pitchforks and charge into my swamp
Because I’m a weapon barbarian
I crashed through a portal from another dimension
And now, like all hell spawn scum
Sent to the professional world
By The Overlord of The Underworld
I am living a normal life
I go to the dentist now
I live
Barely
With money
In a studio apartment
Set at 65 degrees
And I’m fine
I had to scratch crawl and scream to smile and wave
There is barely a society
I’m a person in
I barely do anything to exist
These people
Are busy gossiping
While I’m busy
Going out to dinner alone
I do my job that is a good job
But now
I am orbiting worlds with social media flying saucers
Gravity from
Lowest common denominators
In important people land
Aren’t sure how to feel about me
Paying my bills now
Timers and switches
On the
Corner of North Fayette and Throop
I almost miss people trying to mug me
Is what you do not know about
If you did
You would be more terrified of me than you ever thought imaginable
You would praise the godly gentleness I possess in my statuesque hands as they descend from the beams of light in the sky in an offering of love
****
Jon Berger is a teacher in rural Mid Michigan. His books Saint Lizard and Goon Dog are available at Gob Pile Press. He has recently been published at Farewell Transmission, Burial Magazine and Southwest Review.