Oh, To Be A Dog

Oh, to be a dog with a full belly and a warm heart, who sees and does no evil. Oh, to be a dog who spends his days moving his body for fun, not fitness, without ever considering his weight or appearance. Oh, to dream of wide fields at night, wide, wide fields that stretch to the horizon. Oh, to play and feel and live without intellectualizing the whole experience. Oh, to unironically enjoy chasing after a ball or butterfly.

Oh, to be you. To look at me lovingly. Not at the zit on my nose but into my eyes next to it. Oh, to be a man for a day. To look at my muscles, to use your body to run all the way to the horizon. To stop doubting myself, to go through a day without having to explain and justify myself to the world.

Oh, to be nine again. To lay on the stones at my grandma‘s house, to be the top of my elementary class again. To have no responsibilities, at all. To play and play and play and make art without knowing it. To run and scrape my knees and get dirt on my jeans, again.