Thomas Fucaloro feels if only he used the right conditioner and hair cream, his poems would be better.

i think my dog is worried about me

i see it in the ridges of his eyebrows.
i need him more than he needs me.
hanging tongues don’t lie. they lick
the grit of it. the grind. my dog waits
for me to drop dead but i feel like demolisher
isn’t going to let that happen. he knows god.
most dogs do. they know how to save lives
and howl the ghost of Ginsberg leaks
through the bottom of my door. the tiniest
little something could. and i awake. get up off the floor.