send me to a ranch somewhere where there are no phones, no cars, no time, only summer days and flies and earth

had ian with me up on the couch. border collie with long curls around the ears, long black fur i knotted my fingers into. he jumped down to roll on the carpet and i couldn't let myself go. 


you're a different person with the dogs, she said. 
i said yes i know. 
this is the real you. 
i said, i suppose. for them i have to hold it together. 
she looked hard at me. but she's in there all the time, even when you are overwhelmed; you just can't see her. 

and i said i am tired of this tug-of-war, split in twain when neither one is whole; i do not deserve multiple pronouns. it is too much effort to exist and it is too much effort not to. and i said, i'm tired. 


she said, i know. you deserve to be. 
would that you could stitch my two parts back together, would that you could remove the strength or the despair. i no longer care which. 


anything for some peace, a few dogs, some wine, an empty mind. i can't keep up. my birthday is in a week. i'm older than you know. i keep forgetting my age. i've lived too many lifetimes in too many cities and the only thing left to save me is the dogs who do not see the significance.