You there, yes you,

listen to me.

I want to be your Divine Old Dog,

who keeps scratching his back on the stars,

on the back of Saturn’s moons,

on the tips of big old Oaks,

I used to be a frightened and lonely man who lived

in a big old house with wonderful views,

my roommates were confusion and pain.

And then I changed, I met a fairy in a big empty barn,

and I told her I wished to be a

Divine Old Dog, and I gave her an old silver trinket,

and she kissed me on the cheek three times,

and I woke up lying by the wood stove.

Oh, I don’t care what you think of me,

your resentments and gripes, or what your thoughts are

about what you have ever done, and I have ever done.

I am finished with angry people, people who get stuck in their struggles,

and always want help, but only the wrong kind.

I don’t care about all that.

Just rub the back of my head whenever you are sad,

and frightened, and call my name loudly and clap your hands,

so I can hear you.

And I will be your Divine Old Dog, and hobble over to

and fall at your feet, and sigh two or three times,

because I so love to see you smile.