I pulled a pair of my wife's underwear from our dog's ass. Yes, a number of my days have begun like this. It is early. The city is soft. The sky looks like sugar-water. All the east-facing windows catch fire. In their secrets, people are waking cotton-mouthed and empty- handed and reaching. Each day begins with an erection— I mean, each day begins with a question and the ten thousand things, each one a suggestion of another, uncounted thing. Surface from sleep with the sunken treasure of breath, call it yours. The sidewalk braces for the heat which will come and lay its dogsbody down. I rise early because I am my brother's keeper as well as my dog's. Come on, dog, greet the day! I know a fire hydrant that's expecting you and a coy, little breeze waiting to be coaxed along by your reaffirming snout.