Teak, The Poet Tree

  “Cowgirls” at the Bridge By Teak Kilmer   I suspect the girls are playing bridge right up until we round the ridge Most think that all they do is wag and moo and munch and maybe brag of milk cans filled for little babes I confess I have not seen them otherwise   Yet I can feel it in my thighs and in my medulla oblongata I just know that bridge they ‘gotta’ These girls they gather every day and contest for trips to Mandalay as tournaments of bridge, they play   Second prize is Monterrey The losers bracket plays croquet while Midge and Peg serve Chardonnay and the younger set does horseplay cause ‘cow-play’ is not a term today then once per year the main soiree   wherein winning cow gets special pay To the winner, the herd cow-tows and for her prays massages her parts and namastes presents a white convertible Cabriolet and enough methane gas to go all the way to the cow spa in the sky known as ‘Hay Day’   so next time you’re

  Just Plane Food By Teak Kilmer   Eating on airplanes is more dangerous than fun The sandwich I call “Attila the Hun” Inside is grease, white paste is the bun   The yogurt explodes when you peel back the seal while the coffee cup leaks all over your meal which isn’t that bad ─ less coffee to taste   and less likely palate and stomach to waste so the juice of the orange and fruit of the banana spare us the revenge of the late Santa Anna   The announcements are loud, TV’s in the ceiling Even food that is grown is in our guts reeling Grease and caffeine undulate the white flour   that stuck to intestines in less than an hour so the lines to the biffy are long and they’re slow cause the guts can’t decide to stay put or to flow