Bristly face, big-eyed,
tip of his tongue on his lips
thinking of last snack.
For a goat, he thinks
big thoughts about crunchy things
and sweet beds of hay.
We were all big kids
visiting the goat in front
of the town diner.
His eyes alien
pupils tilted the wrong way
nervous and knowing.
He didn’t frighten us
he sniffed the vanilla twist
but wanted just cone.
