Him

His toes curl up 

As he lies upside down on the bed
With his goods exposed.
His black bottom lip quivers
As he sleeps
Engulfed in the dreams
That only One like him dreams. 
Through his senses,
He is Easily woken from his slumber
With the slightest stir of movement.
His big eyes look at me in saturation mode,
Startled at first
And then—
In a foggy admiration.
Stretching, he licks my toes
With his tongue and tickles them.
Annoyed, I push him away with my feet.
He turns over and stretches his ass
Up in the air like a child
Who has slept rather oddly,
And as if he is bowing
to some demi-goddess,
Who is long forgotten,
Except by him.

Then
he lies back down
Rubbing his face,
And his nose.
And he sneezes because of the dust
That I stir when I reach
and open the curtain
To peer out the window
At nothing in particular.
He tugs at my NYC night shirt with teeth,
As if to say
He wants to play.
His nails are long,
And I realize
They need to be cut.
He smiles and shows his teeth
With his underbite
Surrounded by his Foo-Man-Chu beard.

We rise up and he races me down the stairs,
Him moving a mile a minute.
His salt and pepper appearance
Makes him seem like he is old,
But he is not. 
I open the back door
And we exit,
Me in my night clothes and him naked.
Running around like mad
Through the freshly dewed grass,
He suddenly stops.
He hears something from afar,
Something I cannot.
One can only wonder
As he barks once,
Listens,
Then
Goes about his business,
Then comes back home
to eat.