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A poem about a young man with a pogo stick and a dog playing with a ball. |
| My six-and-a-half year old, Ex-neighbor’s screaming, Playful son hoists his sneakers On a fully spring-loaded, Metallic pogo stick, Bouncing in unison to the screeching echoes From this lively, kinetic distraction. On the still sidewalk of his parents’ Two-story, well-furnished new home, His bright brown eyes flame with Glistening excitement. But the monumentally dull, sporadic bursts Of closely guided movement Soon disinterest the bored, weary hopper, And this energetic, growing lad Seeks out the company of the family pet, A long-haired, Alaskan-style, scruffy, And alert watchdog. The loquacious child calls to the busy canine, Who is frolicking contently with a blue And red striped, rubbery ball Which he often claws at with his paws and jowls, Attempting to coral it. The friendly youth rolls the multi-colored ball Toward the eager and captivated dog; They rekindle the fondness of boy and pet, Together on a calm, uneventful afternoon In quiet, modest suburbia… |