Goats Oklahoma and Frozen Candles


some sweating goats eating banana bread (my mother makes pretty good banana bread come to think of it) lengthening battering rams blocking bumping ramming jumping (I was a rather decent gymnast once, even won a first place in free-style in high school, that involves some fancy jumping) bleating their pen-names of bleeding blood coral reefs reefs reefers (I was admittedly never much for reefers) beneath the churning seas over Oklahoma (my first serious girlfriend dumped me for some dopey guy named Pete with folded down ears then she moved to Oklahoma but I still like the play) yes this week in Vermont or down on fatuous Jamaican Plains in their bifocals belly-frothing starfish (amazing if you pull off one of their legs it grows back again, oh to be a starfish) with their too-thick arms while eating frozen candles and of course soggy breadsticks watching sit-com re-runs (Seinfeld’s great and MASH and even the Honeymooners, but who has time really) beamed in as it were from outer space (once I dreamt of being an astronomer, was even vice president of the Astronomy Club in college but couldn’t inevitably do all the math and physics it takes nowadays to be a real astronomer) someplace churlish bastards