Cold Cows

While driving north

On I-25

It starts to snow

Seeing the cows

Their sad fate

Predetermined

Already makes me meloncholy

And mournful

But now

On top of their

Imminent sacrifice

They’re cold, too

Have to be, right?

I keep driving

I don’t want to think about

The cold cows

But I can’t help it

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The Bowl (a poem)