goat mother

we could be the television repair men. 
i hold up a tape recorder to ask
"is your tongue loose?" i have a cupboard
just for lungs. breathe soot. breathe boots.
the goat mother is a place you go when 
you need to make something useless.
tell me i am not the cow you wanted. i am
a goat on the roof. i am the mother of all horns.
i am the architect of underworlds. we knock
on doors hoping one will open to reveal a whale. 
the town sometimes catches fire 
& we have to cover our eyes & pretend it was 
no one's fault. sometimes a person just
dies by murder. the passive voice says,
"look at the goldfish." i look at the goldfish
& they are all skeletons. when the television is broken
there's no use in running around & looking
for manna where there is none. this is what i mean
when i say i want to be a repair man. i want
to come in through the window & say,
"we don't have to look at the mail box anymore,
let's turn our thoughts into stratus clouds."
every once in awhile after seeing something happen
i will put my eye in gum wrappers.
unplug the television just to find it is 
so well maintained that it just keeps going.
i sometimes wonder if i have been conditioned 
to fav or untruths. they are generally more
comfortable. tell me i am good. tell me
i am the goat mother or else at least
that there is one looking out for me. i make
a plate of feathers & ring a bell calling, "dinner!"
you haven't lived until you've spent a year
only eating air. eyes like back doors. sneak out with me.