Cowboy

I drove to the Pacific Northwest 

To see the world’s biggest steer. 

Five miles east of Joyce, rest

Look 6 feet up for Cowboy’s chest 

Over the fence, you can peer. 

This, the great escape I set, 

Testing if the paper was correct,

Seems foolish now I’m here.

I thought I might become infested;

His enormity would force me to confess—

Something in his milky eyes would make things clear

But the sun went down, night undressed

And all I was, was behind a fence,

Staring at Cowboy, flicking flies with his ears.

Among his herd, California’s best

There he stood, unimpressed

God’s freak creature, un-endeared.

I got back in my car, oppressed

Longing for some truth he never had possessed.

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