FAT CALVES
The cow kind, the running kind that sit in the meadow,
lazy as all get out at least it seems. If I had such eyes, the
big brown kind, I'd never want to rise either. So here I
am, sitting in the barbed wire enclosure, looking out at
some other world : carports and raspberry bushes; little
kids with play guns and carts. The farmer comes by, I
know, a little later in his pick-up truck to throw out a
few bales of hay. Slowly, slowly, they'll all get to it.
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I've been sleeping in this copse for a few of these Summer
days now - nights are nice; warm and dark. I love the woods.
No one really knows I'm here, and those that do don't care.
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