A Machine for Loving

Two weeks after my arrival Fox died just after sunset I was stretched out on the bed when he approached And tried painfully to jump up he wagged his tail nervously Since the beginning he hadn't touched his bowl once He had lost a lot of weight I helped him to settle on my lap For a few seconds he looked at me With a curious mixture of exhaustion and apology Then, calmed, he closed his eyes Two minutes later he gave out his last breath I buried him beside the residence At the western extremity of the land Surrounded by the protective fence Next to his predecessors During the night a rapid transport From the Central City dropped off an identical dog They knew the codes and how to work the barrier I didn't have to get up to greet them A small white and ginger mongrel Came toward me wagging its tail I gestured to him He jumped on the bed and stretched out beside me Love is simple to define But it seldom happens in the series of beings Through these dogs we pay homage to love And to its possibility What is a dog but a machine for loving You introduce him to a human being giving him the mission to love And however ugly, perverse, deformed or stupid this human being might be The dog loves him, the dog loves him