Just when you think the people you work with are sane, something like this creeps up.

Ode to a rubber chicken
By Rick Roberts

With flightless wings devoid of down
And gaping maw as sweet as a dove
With only bumpled skin to serve as gown
Fare-thee-well, my neoprene love.

Prized higher yet than all other chickens
From me thou wert stolen like chads from Gore
And still my love for thee yet thickens
Tho’ faith my body’s parts are no longer sore.

No more am I to be thy guide
Or on nights to lie and spoon
How I long to snuggle by they side
OH FIE! on he who took my love–thou goon.

He who finds this love of mine come hither
And here end my continuing dither