Like you, I cannot resist
the impulse to watch animals eat.
I invite a bearded goat to munch
from my palm. I have never
appreciated facial hair. Rather,
the imprecision of elephants
cupping fluids in their trunks.
The arrangement of the pellet
dispenser on a fence. Gumball
machines inside a buffet.
On a road trip through Wisconsin,
we detour through a town once
a home camp of the Ringling Brothers
Circus, off-season. We sadden
at the grocer and tidy park, scour
porches for men with three ears sharing
an iced tea with a baboon. We expect
some consequence for tameness.
That throb of water in the nose.
