Dear Park Ave.
by Gary F. Iorio
She bought a dog to have
to walk with. But the dog never walked.
He ran, and stopped, sprinted, circled, peed, barked,
pooped (shat), yawned and slept.
never walked with her – at her side, like
The town was waiting for her
and her dog.
Outside the bakery, there was a water bowl on an aluminum stand.
Inside, the doggie treats were free.
The guy who owned the franchise-sandwich-shop had
pictures of a Boxer-mix taped to the register. But behind the counter
there was always a sleeping Husky
lying close to a wall papered with black and white images of the
Subway station at Stillwell Avenue,
She chased and shouted as
he knocked over the clean, aluminum stand; pleaded with him as
he refused and barked loudly at the doggie treats that were offered and free.
Once, while she waited for her small “Veggie-Local,” he cleared the counter
and landed on the sleeping Husky.
She’d walked past my window carrying the huge, heavy, happy beast.
We all knew she whispered his name each night, last thing, before
GARY F. IORIO was raised in Brooklyn and Massapequa, NY; he has an MFA from The University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Mr. Iorio works as a real estate attorney. His fiction, poetry and memoirs have been published in various publications including SAN PEDRO RIVER REVIEW, FICTION AT WORK, THE EAST HAMPTON STAR, THE WISCONSIN REVIEW, THE MISSISSIPPI REVIEW, FRONT&CENTRE MAGAZINE, ECHO INK REVIEW, BLACK WORDS ON WHITE PAPER, CRACK THE SPINE and MUSED.