A dog
Has made my swing
His home
It is thin
And resembles a fox
That's why we call him, foxy
I feed him milk from a saucepan
Sometimes popcorn
Sometimes mango cheese cake
It tries to play with me
But weariness takes over
Eyes shut
In the middle of the summer heat
He listens to my scratched record
Of Monteverdi
And moves its tail in slow harmony
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