Crossing the Campo de Barnabas a smallish orange dog
ran toward me. She had something in her mouth
and a collar around her neck.
She stopped in front of me and dropped a small wet chunk
of chewed plastic at my feet .
Then she looked into my eyes and said;
“Throw this magic disk and I’ll love you forever”.
I bent down, picked it up,
and threw it.
It wasn’t a ball or a heavy object, so it went no more than twelve feet.
When the plastic left my fingers she was already gone.
She saw it fly and scooped it up just as it landed.
She ran toward me and placed the object at my feet and backed up.
Again she spoke; “throw this magic disk and I’ll love you forever”.
I tossed it more vigorously and it sailed only as far as before.
Had it been a ball or an object of greater density, it might have flown further. Before my arm had completed the throwing motion, she had placed the slobbered-on scrap of plastic in front of me and again made her promise.
I tossed the disk with all my might another twenty times and more.
Each time it traveled no more than twelve feet and she brought it back with her same promise of love.
At what point do I stop throwing the plastic?
At that point does she still say she loves me?
I will throw the plastic forever,
so long as
she tells me
she loves me.