Now I'm getting sick.
I think-- OK, cows and a story.
Are you ready?
OK.
This is-- my dog, Honey, she was a stray from the Bronx.
And yet she has a total obsession
with large farm animals.
And so I got her--
so I live some of the time in Texas,
and I got her a subscription to this magazine
called Livestock Weekly.
So it would come into-- it was so great.
It would come into the mailbox in Marfa: Honey Terence Miles.
And then her-- and so there's always
like sad animals on the cover, who
you know what's going to happen to these animals.
"Nobody Friends."
"Nobody's talking about the five of you, a family.
The blue sky gets all the talk that's sometimes brown.
I see accusation and in bright white faces, a wee bit of fear
because posing for a picture means what for cows.
You'll bring expected prices, they say.
You lived in North Texas.
There's a reddish tree and we're standing far back
from where you gaze and head down eating grass.
This brown along the skyline, bumpy, looking like paradise
the caption says, but on closer examination
reveals short pickings.
I saved you for what?
To say you've been and gone.
And each time you pose, I think of you
and go, Oh, long dead people look so dumb.
You're the same ones I know today.
And the photos are blatantly poor.
The light on your face and bodies,
the way you stand the day is true
still is yours, yours, all yours."