ankle-biting dogs

My sister
likes to watch these
ankle-biting dogs who
chase her into
righteous rage.

The worst death
is a wet death
says the hospice nurse.

Makes you bloat and choke.

I hope those spin dogs
spin her in
a spin DRY cycle.

I love my sister
and I hate those dogs.
It's a wry dry hate
of course.

Interest. It's all about interest. Those rat terriers capture her interest and because they do they capture mine. I do not care when the ankle-biting cable commentators snare others in their snappy snarly patter (whether "right" or "left") but it captures my attention that these capture hers. We came from the same womb. And we see so differently. Where I see snarky superficial bias, she might see wise counsel and sage understanding. And what I might hear as sane discourse, she might think is rot. Is it this way in every family? How do we do this? Religion and politics they say do not discuss and so I violate the rule. I care for neither. I see them both as distractions from life. All wars are created through religion and politics. And all those ankle-snappers do their part in arousing hysteria. Armageddon! Socialism! End of times! Snap & bite! Bite & snap! Keep the people stepping and a'moving. Keep those ratings up! Let my rat terrier name be known as one that stood for America wrapped in the Flag of Truth. Arghhhhh!!! Talking Heads! Talking Heads! God save us from the Talking Heads!