On a new moon in New York City,
When the harbor fills with fog,
You see the cafe if you squint just right,
Called the feather and the dog.
I slipped inside one evening and snagged an empty booth.
The opposite side was quickly filled by a man,
Quite long in tooth.
I hate neon stickers.
Was the first thing he ever said.
I miss the days of paper tags with sails marked on red.
I really didn't find this odd.
He did have a jackal's head,
And a counting by Anubis is what his name tag read.
He snorted then continued with a great contemptuous moan,
But the sails in ancient Egypt?
You try chiseling discounts in stone.
Gathering clues,
I interrupted,
Weren't souls what you used to weigh?
The god Anubis on the River Nile?
Then he began to say,
The Romans came and everything changed,
Then someone,
I'd love to know who,
Decided zero was a good idea.
Well,
That changed all the rules.
I was,
I'll admit,
Completely confused.
So now what do you do?
Same old,
Same old,
Anubis said.
I weigh things out for you.
The humans never see me,
Though,
So you're a little odd,
Said the jackal to the woman in The Feather and the Dog.
Anubis laughed,
Or rather,
Barked,
I do your dirty work,
Your insistence and persistence,
To know what everything's worth.
Surely money was important in ancient Egypt,
Too.
He rolled his eyes and flicked his ears.
Let me tell you what I do.
Many religions have changed since then,
So I have a different role.
I try when you're alive to show how your living treats your soul.
Upon the table,
Anubis dropped an enormous pricing gun.
I go through yards of stickers,
He said,
Before each day is done.
But I only ever mark one thing and hope you get the clue.
He grabbed his stuff and stood to leave.
Then my soul,
His gaze,
Went through.
That it's not worth it,
The cost,
He said.
Of what others think of you.
