A Wish In The Small Hours

If dogs could stand as tall as humans,
and on their hind legs,
upright, in a manner of speaking,

and if they could negotiate
the complexities of a phone
booth and had change,
or pockets for change,

and if you could still find
a functioning phone booth
in this godforsaken city,

I'd wish a lost dog would dial
my number entirely by accident
at four o'clock in the morning
and beg me to drive across

town to scratch its belly
and murmur consoling endearments
in the parking lot of a SuperAmerica.