The Dog Car, a Poem

The quiet launch
you retire
the voiceless spitting of a dog
on the corner of our minds
all the good fur
so your hand
it was right all along
the miniature dog
all the hair along our minds
the spitting vegetables
the maid and circumstance
of us leaving each other alone
only because this wave of the beast
of time happened to you first
called you away to solve her fall
which would absolve you
prove false the friend
jealous of your free time
I want you
but it is not a thought for now
your hand which held mine
in the dog car
has released bodies from war
and I revisit your thoughts
like a church wedding
at which--outside of the party--
we are friends
all else unclear