The Blongorth

Three scienticians depthed the many-footed Blongorth.
Caging the magnitude, they scored a test of intelligence.
Unanimous deliberation arrived at concrete conclusion.
“This is no man.”

Many study-months go by.

Three scienticians furrow brows and think fingers over mouth,
No symptom of glee, manifestation of appetite, only signals of grief
“The Blongorth is a solitary creature,” spake the heavy-holy sagacious textbook
“Wild-freedom is advisable.”

Good-bye day came and went.

Three scienticians read late-nights about insomnia,
Three scienticians discovered sleep difficult sans Blongorth nightly cage sounds
From within the neighboring lab.

Three scienticians left the Blongorth by the New Jersey Turnpike
Three scienticians recall his lonesome cowboy groan,
And regret his misty cowboy eyes in the science-van rearview.
They gave him a book bag and few wrinkled t-shirts.

The heavy-holy sagacious textbook was.
Wrong.

The Blongorth is a social creature.
The Blongorth only needs a friend.