The Lamb 🗽🐑

I saw that dead lamb on the train again. Slumped in a corner of the car, kicked there by people cramming in. (I could tell by the trail smeared across the floor.) His face was bashed. Blood clotted over his eyes. Wool mottled with gore. And the smell! Like vomit caked on a wine-o, then shat on by a baby. Flies swarmed so thickly it was hard to make out where the corpse ended and the filth began.

I read something once about a sheep who wandered Central Park, delighting tourists with magic tricks, confronting locals and giving them directions, evading the NYPD. I guess they finally caught and killed him. But if that really happened — maybe I read this in the Post — they should fire the butcher. That lamb’s not dead. I can hear him giving directions:

You’re all cannibals
Why aren’t you digging in?
Eat my chops and feel my life
You’ll know the way as well as me
And when you’re sick
(You will be sick)
Spill your guts upon my coat
Take me with you where you go
I’ll keep you clean

Am I the only one who hears/smells/sees this? It could be some deep-seated hallucination. I sometimes try to shut him out — close my eyes, plug my ears, hold my breath — and he won’t disappear. He’s on the A. He’s on the Z.