[Martin Elster]

The Old Mutt Converses With His Puppy Photo

“Hey, you,” the former snapshot of me yaps.
I woof to the young whippersnapper, “Pup,
what’s up?” “Remember all those snarly scraps
I used to have? Eugene would break them up,
but not before I’d wup the shabby cur.
Remember how I’d snatch a scrap from dinner
when Gene would leave the room a minute?” “Sure!
You clearly were a peerless canine sinner.”

“But now,” my photo barks, “you lag behind
and pant like a steam engine on a trail.
You beg instead of steal. You’re nearly blind
as an olm. I’m glad I’m still a pup!” “My tail,”
I bay, “wags often as it did for you,”
then walk into an oak just out of view.