Love That Dog (2 page)

I guess it does

look like a poem

when you see it

typed up

like that.

But I think maybe

it would look better

if there was more space

between the lines.

Like how I wrote it

the first time.

And I liked the picture

of the yellow dog

you put beside it.

But that's not how

my yellow dog

looked.

I really really really

did NOT get

the pasture poem

you read today.

I mean:

somebody's going out

to the pasture

to clean the spring

and to get

the little tottery calf

while he's out there

and he isn't going

to be gone long

and he wants YOU

(who is YOU?)

to come too.

I mean REALLY.

And you said that

Mr. Robert Frost

who wrote

about the pasture

was also the one

who wrote about

those snowy woods

and the miles to go

before he sleeps—

well!

I think Mr. Robert Frost

has a little

too

much

time

on his

hands.

Remember the wheelbarrow poem

you read

the first week

of school?

Maybe the wheelbarrow poet

was just

making a picture

with words

and

someone else—

like maybe his teacher—

typed it up

and then people thought

it was a poem

because

it looked like one

typed up like that.

And maybe

that's the same thing

that happened with

Mr. Robert Frost.

Maybe he was just

making pictures with words

about the snowy woods

and the pasture—

and his teacher

typed them up

and they
looked
like poems

so people thought

they were poems.

Like how you did

with the blue-car things

and reading-the-small-poems thing.

On the board

typed up

they look like

poems

and the other kids

are looking at them

and they think

they really are

poems

and they

are all saying

Who wrote that?

We were going for a drive

and my father said

We won't be gone long—

You come too

and so I went

and we drove and drove

until we stopped at a

red brick building

with a sign

in blue letters

ANIMAL PROTECTION SHELTER.

And inside we walked

down a long cement path

past cages

with all kinds of

dogs

big and small

fat and skinny

some of them

hiding in the corner

but most of them

bark-bark-barking and

jumping up

against the wire cage

as we walked past

as if they were saying

Me! Me! Choose me!

I'm the best one!

And that's where we saw

the yellow dog

standing against the cage

with his paws curled

around the wire

and his long red tongue

hanging out

and his big black eyes

looking a little sad

and his long tail

wag-wag-wagging

as if he were saying

Me me me! Choose me!

And we did.

We chose him.

And in the car

he put his head

against my chest

and wrapped his paws

around my arm

as if he were saying

Thank you thank you thank you.

And the other dogs

in the cages

get killed dead

if nobody chooses them.

Yes

you can type up

what I wrote

about my yellow dog

but leave off the part

about the other dogs

getting killed dead

because that's too sad.

And don't put

my name

on it

please.

And maybe

it would look good

on yellow paper.

And maybe

the title

should be

YOU COME TOO.

Yes

it looks good

on yellow paper

but you forgot

(again)

to leave more

space

between the lines

like I did

when I wrote it.

That's okay though.

I like that poem

we read today

about street music

in the city.

My street is not

in the middle

of the city

so it doesn't have

that LOUD music

of horns and trucks

clash

flash

screech.

My street is

on the edge

of a city

and it has

quiet music

most of the time

whisp

meow

swish.

My street is a
one

with houses on both sides

and my house is

the white one

with the red door.

There is not too much traffic

on my street—

not like in the

middle

of a city.

We play in the yards

and sometimes

in the street

but only if

a grown-up

or the big kids

are out there, too,

and they will shout

Car!

if they see a car

coming down our street.

At both ends

of our street

are yellow signs

that say

Caution! Children at Play!

but sometimes

the cars

pay no attention

and speed down

the road

as if

they are in a BIG hurry

with many miles to go

before they sleep.

That was so great

those poems you showed us

where the words

make the shape

of the thing

that the poem

is about—

like the one about an apple

that was shaped like an apple

and the one about the house

that was shaped like a house.

My brain was pop-pop-popping

when I was looking at those poems.

I never knew a poet person

could do that funny

kind of thing.

I tried one of those

poems that looks like

what it's about.

Yes

you can type up

the yellow dog poem

that looks like a dog

but this time

keep the spaces

exactly

the same

and maybe

it would look

really really good

on yellow paper.

Maybe you could

put my name on it.

But only if you want to.

Only if you think it

looks

good enough.

I was

a little embarrassed

when people said

things to me like

Neat poem, Jack

and

How'd you think of that, Jack?

And I really really like

the one you put up

about the tree

that is shaped like

a tree

not a fake-looking tree

but like a real tree

with straggly branches.

But I want to know

who is the

anonymous poet

in our class

who wrote that

and why didn't

he

or

she

want to put

his or her name

on it?

Was it like me

when I didn't think

my words

were

poems?

Maybe you will tell

the anonymous tree poet

that his or her tree poem

is really

a poem

really really

and a good poem, too.

That was the best best BEST

poem

you read yesterday

by Mr. Walter Dean Myers

the best best BEST

poem

ever.

I am sorry

I took the book home

without asking.

I only got

one spot

on it.

That's why

the page is torn.

I tried to get

the spot

out.

I copied that BEST poem

and hung it on my

bedroom wall

right over my bed

where I can

see it when I'm

lying

down.

Maybe you could

copy it too

and hang it

on the wall

in our class

where we can see it

when we are sitting

at our desks

doing our stuff.

I sure liked that poem

by Mr. Walter Dean Myers

called

“Love That Boy.”

Because of two reasons

I liked it:

One is because

my dad calls me

in the morning

just like that.

He calls

Hey there, son!

And also because

when I had my

yellow dog

I loved that dog

and I would call him

like this—

I'd say—

Hey there, Sky!

(His name was Sky.)

My yellow dog

followed me everywhere

every which way I turned

he was there

wagging his tail

and slobber

coming out

of his mouth

when he was smiling

at me

all the time

as if he was

saying

thank you thank you thank you

for choosing me

and jumping up on me

his shaggy straggly paws

on my chest

like he was trying

to hug the insides

right out of me.

And when us kids

were playing outside

kicking the ball

he'd chase after it

and push it with his nose

push push push

and getting slobber

all over the ball

but no one cared

because he was such

a funny dog

that dog Sky

that straggly furry

smiling

dog

Sky.

And I'd call him

every morning

every evening

Hey there, Sky!