Outdoor Air

The elevator doors opened up with a slide,

and let the whole storm and the neighbor inside.

The dog was a mess of a golden-brown heap,

with a secret of mud that he wanted to keep.

He gave a big shake and the spray hit my knee,

the smell of the river was all I could see.

A musk that was heavy and damp as the floor,

like something that didn't belong through the door.

Grey droplets were hanging from ends of his hair,

bringing the life of the wild, outside air.