By Diana Der-Hovanessian
My only agenda seems obvious: love me,
love my dog, love my poems, love my cooking.
But, but, but if you do, if you do love me
love my dog, love my poems
I'd want you to love more poems, more food,
That's the trouble with love and agendas.
One thing leads to another.
And before you know it, we're sick of each other
dogs and poems.
But, but, but, if you don't we'll never know
what the barking is all about.