Noir Wordplay

Last night,
   When we broke out of prison,
Deep in the backwoods of Michigan,
   Plunging so awkwardly through the snowbanks,
You pointed and laughed
   So uproariously
At My Gooseflesh;

But in the end,
   I owned the revenge
For my mortification.
   They'll find you dead,
Flesh mortified, snowbank-bound
   Offed by hypo- hypo- hypo-
While I huddled in that
   Overwintering flock of geese
And
   Became a Goose.

It's lovely up here.