along U.S. 87, God pushes the dairy button
Cloudburst of butter slaps the windscreen
eggshell tires explode
I stop, pop the bonnet
the motor's cheese. In the pasture
by the road, cows
write poetry in the grass
eye me with bovine disdain. I shake
my fist at buttermilk sky
"Why do you do this?" I cry
"You really piss me off!" That's when
He curdles my head.
Originally published in Feh! (A Journal of Odious Poetry), August 1991
I now want ice cream. Not milk, cheese, cream or eggs. Ice cream. Hm.
ReplyDeleteinstead of turd head, curd head.
ReplyDeleteCows eyeing you with disdain reminds me of the Paul Simon lyric "I see them in the airport lounge/ upon their mothers' breast/ They follow me with open eyes/ Their uninvited guest". It's pretty great when cows (or babies) are ten times more zen than we could ever imagine.
ReplyDelete