why i petted the dog on the side of the road on a particularly humid texas afternoon

because i was exhausted and cranky 
and it was too late in the week to be walking home 
and because texas was threatening to rain all over us, especially me. 

did i mention i was starving and i had gotten a bad test grade 
and someone had spilled something suspiciously brown on my white shirt? 

because this dog craved attention and because 
my fidgeting adolescent paws begged me to do something. 

because petting is said to be incredibly therapeutic. this dog wasn’t fluffy, or cute. 
just a lonely, sad old doberman with no home. 

sure, i worried about ticks and disease, but not close to enough to stop. 

because i liked to trace the outline of the ear, of the soft cartilage it was made of. 

because i wanted to ignore the questions of who would win and hypotheticals swirling around my skull. 

because i could tell from the dog’s watery eyes that he was a thinker who didn’t want to think, like me. 

because his barking was somehow beautiful and his fast swishing tail was unregulated by the
police or the government. 

because chaos was everywhere, inside me and out, and i liked the shy glow of a small success.