from a while back, enjoy this programmed poem as NaNoWriMo eats my soul.... gah!
The pickup bounced on its springs
riding lower than any the hikers had seen
as the rancher drove by to gather his herd
and run them to roundup's branding.
They barely noticed those behind the wheel
until the truck was gone over the hill
and the tail end hiker called out loud
about the vikings helmet complete with horns
those in the cab seemed to be wearing.
Then came the screams of human fear,
as over the ridge was driven the heard
before the rage of three large minotaurs
and their cow queen with her large brown eyes
racing the Ford behind her gather,
into which the earthlings were hustled
off to the slaughter for meat to feed
the young her sisters still nursed
in the ranch house far off and away
in a hellish dimension of mythical beasts.
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