Anything but Standard - Edward Hirsch

[Larry Robinson]

Anything but Standard

It was the two of us, wasn't it, on those steamy nights
circling the low-slung museum across the street
and lingering by the pond behind the chapel. 

It's how the southern clouds passed slowly
overhead, season after season, year after year, 

as you followed a low intricate scent
across the stately lit lawn,
and studied the squirrels in the live oaks,
and waded into the brown reflecting pool
with the broken obelisk. 

You were a descendent of water dogs
and anything but standard
when you materialized out of the sticky heat
with your dripping black forehead
and delinquent grin, a growl unmuzzled. 

It was your Russian face that steadied me
as I sat on a battered wooden bench,
lost in a night that wouldn't end,
and you lay down - calm, poised, watchful -
and stirred beside me on the simmering grass. 

Let's get up and go.
Trot ahead of me, old friend,
and shake off the watery darkness.

	- Edward Hirsch