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Symbiosis
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Kenneth Lee
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I sit with my thermos of coffee on the mall:
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a mile-long promenade, arcades of elms
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flanking a generous aliquot of benches.
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But at this early hour it starts to dawn:
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I am the only one without a dog.
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So, a witness to an ancient symbiosis,
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as it's evolved within a modern city:
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The dogs, I note, are smaller, the owners
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less ferocious. The former sniff then poop,
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the latter, like potty-training parents, pat their heads,
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gather it in plastic doggy-bags.
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It's no longer for the hunt or for protection;
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both species have adapted to survive
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hard loneliness inside a small apartment.
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