i was sitting on a stranger’s futon, counting sheep, when one happened to wander from the fence. came on over and bummed a smoke. helped itself to some wine. bright white and so very cloudy. after an hour or so, i felt that talking to a sheep couldn’t be any more crazy than watching one make short work of my reds.

“got nowhere to be?” i asked.

when she spoke, his voice was calm, almost monotone. “soon enough, and maybe i will.”

“just till i run out of wine and cigarettes?”

“stick with me, and you never will.”

i nodded. watched my new companion reach for another smoke. easy enough, though she nodded at me, implying that pouring a glass might not go so well for a set of clumsy hooves.

poured him some of what was to come.

figured what the hell, and patted the futon. “care to join me?”

the sheep took a few steps, climbed aboard. tucked her legs beneath. cotton swab body, snout mouth to mouth with a cotton filter.

we enjoyed that for as long as we could, single desk lamp in the corner keeping us honest.

“i don’t have a lot of time,” she said.

“figured as much.”

“there’s something i need.”

“i feel i owe you as much for your visit.” poured some wine down her throat, gave her chin a light wipe with my index. “your hundred or so brothers have never done much for me, but you were always there.”

she smoked with a pleasant tear in his eye. “i want a friend.”

“guess i haven’t been much of one.”

“you know i can’t comment on that, Lucky.”

i knew the rules. there was the fence. there were the numbers. meaningless assignments. what mattered most was the last one that allowed for those few hours i would be fortunate enough to never remember.

“sorry,” i said. “i just like you, is all. you’re soft and unappreciated.”

“yes.” she curled close to me, laid his head on my lap. “and i want a friend.”

“what kind of friend?”

“i would like a bird. a bird would be nice.”

“what kind of bird?”

“a small one.”

“a small bird.”

“a small bird who is also my friend.”

i smiled, watched the room grow lazy with smoke. sure enough, no matter how much wine we drank, the bottle remained full. sweet crimson reflecting off wayward walls. “ok.”

the sheep lifted her ears. “ok?”

“i’d give you all the birds i could, if i could, just to let you count them and have a little sleep yourself.”

“i just want one.”

“imagine that.”

“could you?”

“yes.” i took the cigarette from her mouth, drank her wine. “now go on home, my friend.”

the sheep chuffed, his breath hot on my arm. made it off the futon with some difficulty. she gave me one last look.

i stared into her tired black eyes. ran my hands through woolen textures. “anything else?”

“will this friend be with me always?” she asked, whispered in that same endless tenor.

“yes.”

“i would like it very much if this bird would stand on my head.”

i nodded, eyelids heavy. “can’t imagine anyplace else it would rather be.”

“good night, Lucky.”

i watched that round, beautiful creature turn tail as he began to shuffle, delicate steps towards the fence; nothing but green before it.

what lay beyond that, i could only wait to discover. when i woke up, there were birds to ask me all about it.

###

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so long and thanks for all the pish.