Benjamin Wolf

Southern Illinois / Brooklyn, NY

Dogs Park

There’s a pet store at the town square.
I pass by every day, serenading the store windows with my car stereo.

Crooked signs and cracked asphalt are the smiles of the patrons of shops and restaurants.
Their laughter is a sad song that drowns out the tune leaking through my tightly locked doors.

A light turns green so I turn with it towards my destination.
The music starts to fade and I reach to press replay, to revisit a place that I’ve never been.
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