POEM: On the Way to Chennagiri, or: A Silly Line of Thought

On the way to Chennagiri, I passed the military dairy farm, and wondered if they also grew blackberries and raspberries. Or, on the contrary, was it strictly a dairy — that would be so like the military. Stick with the primary, don’t distract with a secondary. But then — for the military — milking cows would already have to be tertiary, and, so, growing wild cherries would be quaternary, or — more likely — quinary [because, of course, they’d also need skills, veterinary.] But maybe the veterinary clinic is a subsidiary, or maybe they hire labor, temporary — maybe former service members volunteer — veteran veterinarians, so to speak.

Then I had a thought that was very scary, what if armed revolutionaries or radical reactionaries made a play for that dairy. The military would have to call on the constabulary, because the cows would be no help at all.

2 thoughts on “POEM: On the Way to Chennagiri, or: A Silly Line of Thought

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.