Passing by Sherman's crate this morning, I noticed something unfamiliar. At first I thought that it was a new toy but, upon further inspection, I discovered that the object that had caught my eye was actually a small notebook. Thumbing through the worn pages, I found--amidst some mindless doodling and sketches of tennis balls--this poem...
At the park, I brace for your attack
Oh, to love you as I lie on my back
Your cool blue eyes
Remind me of an Alaskan sunrise.
Even when you're remote,
I feel your teeth against my throat.