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 Chagall’s Goat


Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude,

but, with all due respect and regard

for your superior talent and intellect,

I’m the one asking the questions here.


Isn’t this picture full of mistakes?

Instead of munching earthly grass

rooted in everyday reality,

that goat roams among the stars,

tethered in the stippled blue of night

like a constellation –

Capricorn in girlish pink.


And what of that bridal pair afloat,

moored to nothing but each other

in their eternal vows? I’m sorry,

but their outlook lacks promise;

the air affords no proper home

or visible means of support.

I’m trying to be broadminded here,

but really, Marc, this simply won’t do.


Oh.

You don’t say.

You paint

proverbs, folk tales, dreams,

and a child’s memories before

his sinister hemisphere became

mired in the drudgery of scraping

what other people call a living.

You’re inviting me to engage

my own imagination. Now I see.