Green Hills Literary Lantern






I win an old dog in a


I’m outside the bar now, looking

for it.  Rebecca

the barmaid said it was tied to the

bumper of a green truck


It’s dark but I find him

covered in snowflakes


Damnedest thing  -  cold, black, &

ugly as shit.  Whimpering


But I love him as I touch & rub his

ears; his eyes turn happy-gold


Best thing is that when I kiss his

bald head

his nose glows red


Good thing on a winter night in



& now I pull him toward my car & he

slides askew as if on a broken sled


We make it.  Now he’s sitting shotgun,

drooling & begging for a name







Mike Faran lives in Ventura, CA. He is the author of We Go To A Fire (Penury Press) and has poetry in The Comstock Review, Plainsongs and Slant and forthcoming in Rattle