Oh Chicken, My Chicken

Oh Chicken, My Chicken

He isn’t MY chicken
but he chickened the hell out of
any man-chicken I’ve seen before
in all my man-chicken watching days.

He’s got those tiny movements of the head
and a big red fabric cockscomb on top, flopping
with each movement, accentuating the positive,
as he’s looking sideways, checking out the ground.

He’s got long feathery bracelets covering up his hands,
and white, fluffy, ruffly, chicken-butt pants.

And chicken legs. And he’s a man.
How could a man’s legs look so much like a chicken’s?
But if you look closely at the reasons you’re enthralled,
you’ll see it’s all because, it’s ALL because–
of the way he MOVES.

And if you really observe chickens,
and notice the slow ruffling of the feathers,
the puffing and deflating that mimics a long breath–
If you spend time squatting, close to the ground,
bending, folding, pecking, walking, running
like a chicken–
If you do all these things and you can
MOVE like a chicken–

Then you too can be a man-chicken, a hero.