(with apologies To K. D. Lang)
I admit to being a cow-parasite,
on the cow nation.
I confess: None of my best friends are cows.
has gossiped about anyone I know.
I haven't seen one in a handicapped
I know that all cows feel.
And in the night, dream science
one day help them to write very bad poems.
And yet... Those spearpoints
dropped by our ancestors
were never chipped from stone
or beat back crazed wheatfields,
out what bread was.
Besides, I was a tomato in a past life
horribly, in an ancient Greek Salad.
It's my experience as a vegetable
that makes me want revenge.
© Elas Giordano 1995