after a lapse of many years
I touched a cow —
touched it on the buttox —
patted it a little.
For years
I’ve seen them at a distance
but not up close
like yesterday.
The cow seemed to ignore me.
To her I was no more trouble
than a fly when I passed by.
Surely she immediately forgot me
but I remember her
and will, likely for awhile:
nice brown and white colors
and an interesting bovine shape.


It’s not like meeting people.
If I met you and did not know you
or even if I did
and gave you a gentle pat
on the buttox
you’d think me strange —
you’d likely not forget me
like the cow did
when I approached her
at the county fair.

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