"My Co-Passengers"

I drove along the 101,
listening to the somber solace of the repetitive chants,
from the monks of bhodgaya,
taking a piece of soulful wisdom along with me,

rolling on in my personal adventure
with the wheels of my silver civic,
I noticed the dark brown hides of the cows,
and maybe baby calves,
trucking alongside me,
caged in a moving wooden prison,
escorted by their driving warden,
seeing their black eyes, blank in oblivion,
not knowing where they came from,
unable to fear where they were going,
huddled together they stood in their docile state,
innocent and soft,
I was still, with them, for just a moment,
before we parted ways,

Me to the comfort of my destined home,
with my father awaiting my arrival
with a warm glass of his favorite chilean cabernet,
and my mother, with the enticing aroma of her spiced indian potatoes,
drawing closer to the warmth of a loving abode,
my fellow co-passengers trudged along,
aimeslessly,
to the trenches of their home,
of slaughter.