Beyond the pane
of a packed train,
a lonely cow
sat in solitude
in a field.
Separated from the other
slack-jawed fat cattle,
crowded around the gate,
mindlessly grouped to wait,
discussing the latest trait,
hoping not to be late.
Making a break for it
the lonely cow stood up,
came over to the train
and stared in for a while
at the herd in their pen,
munching away, groaning.
I gorped at the cow
now sat back down
content having a think,
while the train remained
delaying our slaughter;
murder me now
lucky cow.
Literary Hitchhiking 