|
Chicken
Scratch for Henry By Ken
Shiovitz Henry Fowler began avoiding political disputes, Those benumbing promotions of fixed opinion, Such as, holding that survival is threatened only By the fascist at home, or only by the fascist abroad. Since he was unemployed and quite broke, Henry could care less who controlled foreign petrol, Or how multimillionaires mugged the public, As long as they did not select him to help settle a matter. Unsullied by petty ambitions beyond remaining alive, Apathy served Henry for as long as he had nothing to lose, Until one day, blind fortune feathered Henry’s future with Inheritance of the Plucky Lady, Egg and Chicken Farm. Henry soon began to admire hens above all other animals, Resulting neither from fluffy fetish, nor errant imprinting
experience, But rather, out of true respect for chicken society, he
much preferred Minor pecking episodes to human misbehavior. What struck Henry most about hens was impossible to pick: How they permit you to rapidly grab them up by the beak, or How quickly they forget and entirely forgive the observed
executioner, Proffering their own unfertilized ova in perfect obeisance. Almost imperceptibly, Henry began his impending surrender, For after only one month, he stopped treating hens like
objects, Patched drafty cracks in the coop, installed ergonomic
perches, and Spent his last profits to raise poultry pleasantry to the
highest priority. Once again broke, Henry could not buck the beckoning tide, But tightened the buckle of his belt, and mocking his
squandered luck, Blandly submitted: if only he had some bucks, some bucks, Some buck, buck, buck. |
