A dog.

I'm a dog with the eyes of a salesman
a bartender that swings between the whisky bottles.
I'm the boxer that smiles before you get hit,
I'm the apprentice, the kid, the morse code, the scum.

I'm that pale man under the coconut tree,
the one that reads dirty poetry in the middle of work,
the one that memorises Hank's stories and sings to your songs,
I'm the one that fears mice and tells death to knuckle up.

I'm a dog that limps down the narrow streets,
the dog that finds your paths and stays on them,
I'm the doorman that leans on your greetings,
I'm the old lady waiting for the bus.

I'm a dog that misses the grass, the little houses and my grandma,
I smell my way to your lap, to your meals, to your smiles,
I am that dog that eats from your hand and bites the air,
plays with the children and surrenders to your presence.

I'm a tiny dog waiting for the sun, the moon, the kiss and my treat.