From an email – a friend traveling in India: “The dogs, goats and cows are all quite mystical. Last night I was in a changing room trying on clothes. There was a large cow there with me. “Can you take it out while I try these clothes on?” I asked, but the man who ran the store told me the cow had to stay there. Good symbology! What does it all mean?”

So I wrote a poem, what else am I going to do?

Those Cows

those cows with their wet muzzle poking into your change room while you try on a turquoise saree.

those cows he said will stay, even though your western sensitivity questioned those painted bovines.

mr. Chaudhury with his change room cow, his popular selection of embroidered beaded and brightly coloured cloth, incense infused concrete walls, Bollywood duets – high pitched and distorted,

daughters to command, they quietly fold and cut cotton, he saves for dowry, well – Mr. Chaudhury loves his cows.

those cows sure have their way, nobody will kick them off the road, skoot them from the park, nobody will feel the flush in the face like one of those white western kids, backpacked, rupee counting, calculating exchange,

when one of those cows with their wet black nose drips bovine snot onto your rubber flip flops.

those darn cows.