when i was a boy,
when i was into crime-fighting turtles
and transforming robots,
watching football on the floor
as you explained every play,
chasing grasshoppers in the yard
and collecting snails in the garage,
we had a dog.
i don't have any pictures of him,
but i still remember his bristly fur
and his gentle eyes,
the way he'd spring to life
whenever he saw
i was awake.
i haven't kept any pictures
of you, dad, but
i still remember,
even if you
couldn't.