The Dogs at Live Oak Beach, Santa Cruz
Alicia Ostriker

• As if there could be a world
  Of absolute innocence
  In which we forget ourselves
  
• The owners throw sticks
  And half-bald tennis balls
  Toward the surf
  And the happy dogs leap after them
  As if catapulted—
  
• Black dogs, tan dogs,
  Tubes of glorious muscle—
  
• Pursuing pleasure
  More than obedience
  They race, skid to a halt in the wet sand,
  Sometimes they'll plunge straight into
  The foaming breakers
  
• Like diving birds, letting the green turbulence
  Toss them, until they snap and sink
  
• Teeth into floating wood
  Then bound back to their owners
  Shining wet, with passionate speed
  For nothing,
  For absolutely nothing but joy.
  

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