At the corner the 3 o’clock
bus from the middle school
spills three girls, two boys,
who trickle toward us
then stop to look at a lump.
Ooh . . . gross is what
(I think) the girls say
and skitter away.
The boys stay
and stare and hoot.
We approach.
Dinah’s upraised tail
anticipates epiphany
and there it is --
squashed squirrel.
That’s so cool one says,
its eyes popped out like that.
I tug the leash. Let’s go
I say to her and pull hard.
Let’s just take his word for it.
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