Husky on the Detroit Dam

I had a dream about Sonny,

my long gone husky.

We were fishing together

on the Detroit Dam.

We had never fished in real life.

Detroit, Oregon.


Molalla, Oregon.


Portland, Oregon.


Klamath Falls.


I cast my line into the fake lake,

for phony rainbow trout.

I smoked a cigarette

I never smoked.

Sonny was giddy at the wall,

primed, spring-loaded.

She shook that husky look:


A blue-eyed mischief in one eye.

“Matt,” she said.

“Blow up the dam!

Let the Santiam run wild!

Like I once did!

Put me in your new novel,

the watershed novel,

let me ride shotgun,

I’ll be the sidekick,

a funny sleuth,

howling clues,

bolting the detective

into adventure

and revelation,

like we used to.

I pulled the car over

and wrote this all down.

The novel was right there,

in my husky’s one blue eye.