No matter what he’s doing on the tip
of the skyscraper,
balancing like a clown,
I put him there.

Looking over his shoulder,
I see his collar turned up, spiky, a way
of wearing it I’ve never tried. When he hauls
so maniacally on the oars, I hardly recognise him.

I know he’s up to something I can’t figure
out. Every time he turns around, he secrets
something under his coat.
It whimpers, its tail twitching.