Dog at the Wheel

I call
When she answers I can hear the dog
Leaning close
As if the call was really meant for him
Or he is her telephone
Chaperone
His panting is louder
Than her voice
A ready steady cadence
Like he is on a treadmill
Propelling the car forward
Her voice
Begins to gradually diminish
I lose sight
Of her thought
Then
Even the thought of her
And I am
Overwhelmed
By the intensely raw
Regular rhythm
Of this beast machine
Driving the car
On the road
To my ear