Yapping at the Stars

I walk my wheely-bin up the laneway,

as my neighbour’s dog yaps at me.

I place my wheely-bin next to the kerb

ready for the garbage truck,

as my neighbour’s dog yaps at me.

I walk down our picture post card laneway

back to our House and Garden home,

as my neighbour’s dog yaps at me.

The stars are out, the Southern Cross is in full sight,

the Yapping Dog constellation beside it,

yapping at it from the safety of its own back yard.

It is not morning and I am not getting into my car,

as I picture my neighbour’s dog yapping at me.

I am not tending the gardens by my neighbour’s fence

as his dog yaps at me.

I imagine my neighbour’s dog yapping at me

ten times more than it actually does yap at me.

My neighbour thinks it’s cute.