Discontented Chickens

nobody contented by their aging replies when asked “but i’m still young” & nobody who asks has any reason but to find out how long that they can still ****, how long they can still dash without responsibility, how long it is that they can dance without those crickety bones, how long they have before they’re over that hill & there ain’t no way to come back now, you know the song that gets sung & you know the way the tune goes & you know how the beat is made & you know what happens when it’s over & you know the tales that get told bout’ all the things that you can do to get to the other side of the road without fessing up that you a chicken too & chickens ****, so you got to admit that you’re just as filthy as the rest of us & chickens are stupid when they all chew the same cigarette butt before tossing it as a group, fight over one crumb rather than see & search for those around them (perceiving different ways to satisfy), try & stuff more than one of themselves into the nesting place without a second thought & drop eggs into the deep mud or even out the barn window, amidst other trivialities---but what brings them all together, what makes them all equal is that eventually that farmer comes out with the axe & takes each one of their little heads, allowing them to run around spurting & gushing before finally dropping dead.