BY MICHELLE ELVY
On my way to work this morning, I saw two cows fucking – OK, I guess it was a cow and a bull. They were right on the side of the road, no kidding. Not down in the pasture, or up the hill, but on the gravel shoulder, right there, so close that I had to slow my car to pass. And when I did, the one closest to me – the one on the bottom, the cow – looked right at me. Big bored browns, long lazy lashes. Like they know a lot but ain’t ever gonna tell. Made me think of that girl Peach – her eyes are like that. I’ve never actually talked to her, but I see her standing on the corner by the gas station. Skinny legs, rounded shoulders, bangs down to those eyes. I don’t actually think about fucking her. Well, maybe I do. But really, when I see her, I remember things I’ve nearly forgotten.
Sometimes I fill my Chevy just to have a look, and sometimes she looks back. In that moment I forget my wife who don’t look at me, kids who don’t hear me, supervisors who don’t listen. In those moments, I forget that I usually don’t look forward to much at all.
Sometimes I can’t wait to fill my Chevy.
***
Michelle Elvy has published work in numerous literary journals and can also be found at Glow Worm. She is also the editor of 52/250 as well as VOICES, where characters (flawed or not) have their say.
A-Minor 
exquisite piece. wonderful, the lead up to the memory and then the lead away again via the chevy. loved it.
Cow pastures, such breeding grounds for a fertile imagination. I like the pregnant pause the story creates after “I forget that I usually don’t look forward to much at all.” The expectation is gestating throughout. And it just wouldn’t work if she drove a Lexus.
Love ths one.
Wow! That Chevy didn’t end up going anywhere near where I thought she would. As a result, I found myself traveling through this piece again and again, culminating in a new perspective each time.
Thanks for the ride, Michelle.
Wonderful Micro, Michelle! You really “pop the clutch” with the gender-switch; I read it as a feminine narrator, ’til I hit “my wife” in the second paragraph. *
Awesome job, Michelle. Love the narrative of this.
Michelle,
“Sometimes I fill my Chevy just to have a look, and sometimes she looks back. In that moment I forget my wife who don’t look at me, kids who don’t hear me, supervisors who don’t listen. In those moments, I forget that I usually don’t look forward to much at all.”
This is a great paragraph – it captures the thoughts of so many in this world, married or not, while they think about what they have and what they may want to have. Very nice.