Nothing really happened.
No understanding passed between them,
no flicker of kinship leapt synaptic sparkwise
from one hound's eyes to the other's.
The man smoked a cigar he'd found in an old jacket
and thought no smart thoughts,
just turning over the possibility of taking his car
in for an MOT, his mind a tumble dryer,
the dogs like tofu facsimiles of dogs,
the big top behind them
burning to the ground.