I haven’t done drugs for three days so I name each one after my sister and mother and brother and take them out with me on a walk, each one taking turns leading, each one the leader of a pack that was bred in the mid- seventies, each leash the color of glass and the density of a star, I hold each leash like something that has returned home after being lost, I walk them under the oaks and maples, under the lilacs and cherries, they walk through the shadows like the team they are, each caring for the other like I always wanted them to, each giving room for a paw, a tail, sometimes smelling each other to make sure they are all right, we are all all right the thing that is not god whispers to me, you are not alone, you are not a shovel or a horse, even the stem of the rosemary bush is really excited that you have made it this far, see how it shivers in the early spring breeze, see how it’s a breeze to be with your whole family, to be the porch they all sit on after the dinner and cake, with mugs in their hands and wine in the mugs, and how they lift their noses into the wind and sniff and look to see if you are there, if you are going to do what you promised to do, if you are going to live and call them sometimes and tell them you love them.