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I Love the Petting Zoo
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I Love the Petting Zoo, a Brian Looney chapbookbook
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One Solitary Word
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Longing

Brian Looney

    What’s in the animal’s dream? Longing for the pasture, for the herd. Longing for the plains, for the sweeping, running winds. Longing for security in numbers, for others of the breed, for instinct and migration.

    The morning-frost expanse and the rising sun, rays refracted and dispersed by plenty diamond dewdrops congealed beneath a mother moon. The sweltering afternoons, where the landscape weeps beneath the weight of heat. The relief of evening, the passage of night. The change of season, the impulse to survive. The brisk rejoicing, as the newly risen shake off sleep, prancing free-trot legs, and the early flies begin to land and start the tail ends flicking, while the younger of the band prance and leap and roughhouse, basking in a moment.

    Further in, a sense of self-sufficiency: searching for the grass, the cud, the dandelions, and finding it; finding it and calling victoriously to one’s brethren with a prideful bleat, for feeding time is now. Then grazing and nourishing together. Together in pride, in safety, in cohesive comprehension. Surviving, reproducing, and prospering together. Gaining in strength together. Oh yes, and even starving together.

    But then, awakened by the spectator’s curiosity, arisen on the shorn and slept-in hay, the chemical taste of formula milk, lodged as yet within its gums or scattered on its tongue, the calf slinks over to the water bin and slakes its thirst in standing pools. Bits of hay and fur detach and float; saliva gobs outspread and drift, frothy bubbles idly wallowing.



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