Down at the dog park my big girl smells bad.
She needs a bath. Marbled godwit lurks
on the beach. So industrial: big trees
in a tall pile ready to be shipped
on big stinky trucks. People are living
in their cars by the dog park and under
tarps with their dogs and under trees. The bay
offers sea breezes that cannot obscure
putrid toilet stench. It lingers and cloaks
the parking lot. A bottle of dark yellow
liquid lingers in brown grass. Take two
poop bags from the dispenser at the gate.
Somebody gives my big girl an old ball.
It smells gnarly. She clutches it in her maw
along with her bad breath. And when we get
to the top of the hill close to the water
we will be trapped in a tight wind