The way leaves crackle - Eugene Dubnov

The way leaves crackle, snow crunches on the ears,
The way the dog scrabbles at the rustling leaves and the snow.
He drags me to smells I cannot sense.
He knows the smell I have and do not know.
Back in the heart of the city,
I swallow pills, sell my book, file my letters
And take an old lady's dog out.
For a walk.
Once a week, on Wednesdays,
I converse with someone,
Who, selectively, takes notes —
I, as they tactfully put it,
Am seeing someone.

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Eugene Dubnov (born 1949) Estonia (now lives USA)