It is a cave
out in the square
it is rounded.
You bark
and bite
at me, Diogenes.
I pet your tail.
Scratch at
your cynical itch.
I ate leftovers
to become like you
warm beneath the stars
beside the campfire.
Still, there are
no roses around
their petals
beyond soft
I am a dog to you.
My name is creamy.
Do not leave me
in the pound forever
with its evil smell.
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