Poetry

Of Fish and Cattle

We used to fish
there, under a
short bridge spanning
a silver sliver of the
cow pasture, an oddly
monikered river
to be sure but
chubs and
horny heads
galore could be
wrangled ashore
most any afternoon
between bites of
prepackaged 7-11
ham and cheese
sandwiches
I have to
hand it to the
cows, though,
such crafty beasts,
not one bovine ever
nibbled my line

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