John W. McEwers
Those Sheep Look At Me Funny When I Pet Them - Poem by John W. McEwers
It's not that this place
is mostly meant for children,
or that the goats spit on people,
or that it smells like a Chipotle urinal.
The way the sheep look at me
like they know me,
they know where I have been,
Docile eyes staring through me
like a lover.
I pat their head, and they don't flinch.
They don't ask for more.
They seem ok with my limited commitment to the encounter,
and they know I am fascinated by that.
Kate was the same way.
Back off, sheep. I'm not buying another ring.
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