It was hot on the chopper.
On top of that,
a cadaver dog sat
big as Sunday
beside me.
He stared out the glass.
His tongue unrolled
like a carpet.
The handler stroked his ear.
Well heeled,
this dog.
I laughed.
What I wouldn’t give
for an open window.
The dog leaning into
ninety-knot breeze,
barking.
Barking his fool head off.