conversation with my mother 3/7/2015

i want a goat, i tell her.

pygmy or nubian?

the cheese-making kind, i tell her. & their eyes are so cute. i say, my friend has a goat who will only deign to eat grass if you rip it out for her and let her eat it out of your hand.

my mother takes this in stride. she says, to a full measure quarter note beat: so, milk-making kind…

i would also like a pet almond (cheese-making kind). i tell her so, but she is more concerned with goats than almonds. she imagines first their eyes and then the world around them–though never the goat itself. with creepy devil eyes, she says, real cute…there are services that will rescue you from those compounds…just give the safe word…

is it a pinocchio reference? because those were donkeys. are there other, more sinister goats that i don’t know about? i embrace her full, world-built fantasy. they have eyes like little desk-drawer locks! i say, because they do. (goats, that is, not almonds.)

are you storing stationery in them?

i answer: just cucumbers. but they always come out as cheese.


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