The Boxer and The Mind

The clock blinks 4:11
Though I know it's wrong.
It's twenty-three minutes slow.
More like 4:34-
Now :35-
Which certainly looks different
And mechanically feels different.
Outside I read a story
which has a narrator revealing
The story of himself. He, the narrator,
as the main character
Of the third person narrative.
And in it describes a version of reality
Involving a "primordial" twin who dies
Leaving The Mind left for eternity
To reconstruct the world in her
Life & Death image
When out of the lawn
Springs a boxer, brown fur
Patched white, chain collar
rattling like the gray sky above
The Master all the while
yelling - Come ON! -
On the other side of the lawn
The Boxer wags his tongue in
Absolute frenzied madness
Wanting to do one thing
and one thing only -
RUN - Move - Be so free that
It jumps out of its skin.
And the Boxer would not listen
to his Master calling.
I patted him as he passed
And he nuzzled his nose,
Softly fatty warm flesh
of dog lips and dog nose
rubbed on my toes.
I just had to laugh.
- Come ON! - from beyond
The Boxer continues in some circles
Near me & I offer to grab his chain.
At the sound of my whistle Boxer
turns my way once again and laps against
me with his body and tail.
I make for the chain which he
dodges, turns, & sprints back to
Master all in one movement.
Yet The Boxer doesn't go to Master still.
But rather the Run continues beyond
my line of view and I leave Master
- Come ON!'ing -
In the late afternoon.