Socks that hide secrets
Socks that hide shame
Socks that contain
the shadows of pain

They once pranced in the dryer
They now slump in the drawer
They send little sock homing signals galore

Fermenting the anguish
Makes the smell much more tolerable

It was all part of the ineffable plan

I only milk my goats by machine
Machines with hands that is

It would never do
do have a real person milk them

They might get attached

Then what would I do with a goat-human hybrid?

I suppose I could sell it on ebay
...or maybe even amazon

Would you like a goat-human for your birthday?
I hear they make great pets

Have you ever milked a goat?
well, I have not
But I've read about it in books

Before this bookish knowledge was bestowed upon me
I had mistaken goat udders for faucets
Imagine my surprise upon opening a book,
to see that the milk must be extracted by hand, by machine
but not once was the handy faucet turned

so I ventured to a goat farm
and there I was mistook
for the most crooked of humans
apparently I had that look


in my humble opinion
I was merely forsook
for the look of a nooked crook

One morning
while bathing in the crepuscular rays
one struck me at a particularly odd angle

Right inside my brain it probed
illuminating a thought
long forgotten
cast aside among piles of discarded neural connections

The thought to walk a goat

My goat has a speech impediment
when the doctor checked her throat
she could only say "AAAAAAAAAAAhhh"
not "ahhhhhhhhh"

The doctor broke the news to me one day
'your goat....has an impediment' he bleated quietly

I dashed out of his AAhffice
AAhway from his AAhccusatory statements
AAhnd rushed into the legs of my goat

'Goat...what are your legs doing there?'
i asked

and I looked up
and saw the goat dAAhngling above my head
'what in the world?!' I AAhxclaimed
'dearest Goat-etha, I had no  AAhdea you could fly'

"every since AAh shAAhared mAAh secret, AAh felt so free, AAh could fly"
(she didn't sound like she had an impediment to me)

'but Goat-etha, you know you can't fly'

and she crashed to the ground
crushed by the knowledge
that not everything is possible

'dear Goath-etha, I still love you, you know'

and she stood back up
and ironed her previously-crushed legs
and walked to the doctor's office
and gave that man a kick in the bAAhlls

I like goats
a bushel and a peck
a bushel and a peck
with a bell (or a kiss) on the neck

Spreadable
Dipable
Nomable
(but not sippable)

Munched in the morning
Munched with crackers
Munched while flunching intelligent professor

You are definitely most delicious
when you come from a goat

Goats
Great
Ostentatious
Allegorical
Tyrantasaurus Rexes
Save the Earth (one goat cheese at a time)

I set a trap
a most devious trap
of CRACKERS TOPPED WITH CHEESE

I lured her in
most carefully
so that I could deceive

that goat so I could make it mine
and take it for a walk

up close it wobbled
("wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble yeahhh")

mesmerized by its dance moves
my head was struck by an epiphany

Ow. How did that happen?
How could I have been so wrong?
This goat clearly had plenty of moves
it could walk itself

When I was a mere child
no sneer yet settled upon my face
fascinated by all things - deer...beer (my parents were not the best, I fear)
but most of all by the thing at which i peered
the goat

Perusing the munchable selection that comprised my backyard
It searched for the delectable treat

Intrigued by its pointy ears, bobbing up and down
my childish eyes tracked its progress back and forth
back and forth like an indecisive typewriter

I vowed one day to obtain that goat
so we could prance about together

for the prettiest goat in all the world
I would vote for you for president
of the blagosphere