Doctors Do Little

My dad would talk to dogs. That’s how I knew he was part human. He’d hold full conversations, soliloquies, and he said I was the one with a way for words. He’s still typing away.

I found a way to connect for free. New wave of magic and technology. Nothing new under the sun. Nearers, heeding and hearing, a kiss just puts you farther away. Keep it.

The dogs never replied, of course. Tough crowd, muscle. How’d he weave Reagan into that dirty joke? I need to make him laugh. He never cries. And we’re back. Only there’s healing this time.

He showed the bright boy when others would scoff. I never was made from whole rebel cloth. I found a boy too, when I found peace and forgave. My cave is for looks, wizards of all age.

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