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I met Snickers
outside a front door
in Minnesota.
all dogs in America
are named Snickers
so it'll be hard for you
to picture him,
but that's not really
the most important thing right now.)
Warmed by the feeble winter sun
he brought me
a small rubber ball.
I threw the ball
and Snickers brought it back.
Over and over and over again…
Suddenly I noticed
that somewhere there in the distance
he stopped
and refused to fetch the ball.
Douglas explained to me
that there was an electric fence
to protect Snickers
from the nearby highway.
I felt for him,
my friend
in his invisible prison.

Ivan Hristov
Translated by Angela Rodel