Fleas
by Judith Johnson

My dog needs to pee,
my niece is hungry,
the meeting is in half an hour,
my students are expecting an exam.

I direct my attention to scratching each itch, wishing it would stop so I could live my life the way
I want. But left alone for very long I will barely make it out of bed.

The needs of the body are not itchy enough for me.

This is the cycle of misery, the central delusion of my life, the wheel on which I am broken.
Thinking if all these needs were taken care of, if the fleas were eliminated, there would be
something more.

My dog knows better.