at a stoplight in historic Clifton’s Gaslight District near University of Cincinnati, I see what I believe is the statue of an English bulldog on a flat porch roof of a vintage Victorian two-story. When the dog moves, I realize he’s tethered to a chain leash fully extended to the front edge of the roof. He’s a brindle and white—compact, brawny. Looks as if he could snap himself loose in a second if he wanted, but he appears content to be outside on this sunny, windy day, standing at attention, enjoying his lofty vantage point.

Does the bulldog wonder
what it would feel like to leap,
land in that green, green grass?