Goat Story

...it's a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in a gyro...mmmmmmm....


I turn from Ritchie Highway onto the exit ramp for 695. I round the curve, but slow where I would ordinarily accelerate. There are two or three cars pulled onto the shoulder. Two adult men stand in discussion. A woman sits inside her station wagon. A goat, shoulders stained with fresh blood, twine lead trailing to the street, trots up the exit ramp.

Traffic begins to collect behind me, but I remain at a standstill. The goat heads up the ramp, towards Ritchie Highway, passes my car on the passenger side. The woman in the station wagon starts her car and puts it in reverse to follow the goat. She parks a few feet from where she had been and gets out to follow the goat, who has rounded the curve.

I can no longer see the goat, so slowly accelerate to go about my business.

This is the middle of the story.

I do not know the end, nor the beginning.

Nearly Sleepless

...which way will things go tonight/ toss and turn or sleep tight/ you can't win, you wonder why/ that sleep is one thing you can't buy....

I go to bed in an ensemble of thigh-high striped socks and a pair of striped panties. This wouldn't've bothered me, except the stripes didn't match.

Enough to keep me awake? Not quite.

I begin to believe in a sardonic God, because accidental irony seems so improbable.

The narcoleptic insomniac, ha-ha. Hahahahah. No.

(You Can't Talk In Your Sleep (If You Can't Sleep): The Go-Go's)