The muscular black dog sits chained outside the coffee shop. He watches his owner's masculinities at the table. The sunshine that his coat knows to shine in and the music of the street. He knows it for its essence. He lets it wash over him. He swims in it. This sidewalk pavement where the man just doubled back to pet the dog and the boy walking the other direction that the dog knows to act excited for, a platform for his subversive puppy-ambitions. The boy's hands along his coat and his good doggy voice vibrating in the air like a ribbon escaping in the wind.
The boy's back to him. The rhythm of the traffic that people hear but don't hear. Sunshine days of the dog's life that are remembered for his successes with people. The mountains in the horizon. The wild world he is connected to but disregards for this world of two legged creatures he controls without controlling. The sun that will set that in its red hue reminds the dog of getting home to a pile of food and there is his owner now getting up from the table.
The majesty of a sunset like everything else but a context for the dog's seducing of people with his good-doggyness. Like a girl coming into her sexual womanhood that hears a different romance in every song. Like that which goes without saying that is neither explained to man at his creation nor whispered to him by the earth he will be buried in that is the secret world that the dog is also a part of.
