People From Real Life People #1: Meg Freitag & Daniel Woody

Magic Baby Goats

The night we met I saw half a shooting star
Horsey across the sky like a hurt animal.
It felt really meaningful, you know?
We lay down in the dirt and he
Said he likes a girl who’s not afraid to lie
Down in the dirt. At that age, my heart was a house
Cat: fat, grey, super bummed-out sometimes.
I learned quickly that his heart was the black
Box of an airplane shot down from the sky.
The stars fell into the river, hissing, and
Rusted. Something inside me opossumed.
He went to his car and brought back
A large wooden box, made a motion with his hand
For me to crawl inside. The moon started bouncing
Up and down along the horizon, like the white dot
That shows you when to sing the words in karaoke.
Mercury must be in Gatorade, he said
As he sawed me in half right below the ribs.
Everyone clapped. Then he pulled me whole
Again from the sleeve of his coat. I became
A long colorful thing with a silk face
That showed all its feelings at once, even the ones
That no one’s supposed to see. He was embarrassed
And tried to stuff some of the feelings back
Into his coat sleeve but it was like trying
To put toothpaste back into its tube. It just made
A mess. But then again I’ve always been the kind
Of person who can wear three or four different feelings
At once and still fit inside a suitcase or a department store
Jewelry display case. And I can really bring
Something fresh—something “me”—to it.
I can also hold my breath until I pass out,
Like sad dolphins have been known to do.
I’ve been told it’s rare. I have another trick
That’s not ready yet in which I turn my fears
Of abandonment into baby goats. In the name of magic
They will follow me around and I will feed them
Oats and let them lick my open palms
Whenever the lonely in my face gets too big.
The life expectancy of a goat is fifteen
To eighteen years, but these magic baby goats
Won’t ever get any older. They won’t ever be able to reach
The stovetop, to make their own lunch.

he tells me one in something gay boys end up homeless cos parents find diaries-porn-dildos-penis pumps-etc & then the whole oh-my-god-get-out-of-my-house-you-are-not-my-son business happens

i felt so comfortable with him that i asked what time it was as if to say i had other things to do it was two o’clock he said if this were a date i’d have to tell him i was too young for him but his car had heated seats

he said look up
look at the tents
on the roof of the mall
those tents
they sleep in those tents
when they get hungry
they come down
they talk
i give them food
i do
i help
i care

i looked up he smiled put his hand on my thigh his skin rough nice romantic even