Last of finals
college, running, pacing an older brain
stay awake, ahead of paperwork.
Breakfast meeting at with compadres.
Rancid smell from under the table.
It wasn’t me.... checked my shoes.
Was positive it smelled like dog poop.
To class for Fiction Writing, all of us looking for a new plot idea.
Mine was in my cherry-red book-bag; a story found after the final exam while people were wrinkling noses and sniffing for the offending party.
I understood my little dog's final grade for this semester.
It was smashed between folders of papers.
I'm sure he said, "There's the bag that gets me locked in the bathroom six hours everyday. Take this, you bastard!"
I was honored with a grand poop award.
I'll not leave the red bag on the floor anymore.
And I bought him new toys.