Over the town-
less Town Center,
over the Commons
& the Pointe,
over Cracker Barrel
& Home Depot,
over Bridgestone Firestone
& Monroe Muffler Brakes,
over Pool City
& Circuit City
& Cabinet World,
over acres of crown vetch
& parking lots
& the motel where
I sit gazing out
a 2nd story window at
another motel,
a crow flies.
It glides.
It flaps.
Its sleek black
plumage glistens
in the humid air.
I twist in
my chair & crane
my neck, hanging
on every wingbeat,
my right hand
creeping up
to my chest.
__________
See also Stars and stripes.
Because, otherwise, how would we know where we were?
The crow is at home wherever he perches.
But the guinea-fowl seeks the security of his master’s compound.
Don’t tell me about guineas — we used to raise them. Sweet tasting, but much too foul-tempered a fowl! In any case, insights from domestic animals aren’t really applicable for human beings, who have thankfully never been victims of a successful captive breeding program, and thus remain fully wild — i.e. with our natural instincts for freedom intact. (Which is not to minimize the effects of social conditioning, of course.)
Do I praise the guinea-fowl? No.
(Unless it is participating in a bowl of peanut stew, in which case, yes, I praise the guinea fowl).
I abhor the way the American flag is used. See Kunstler for details.
No argument there.
Er… I wouldn’t know about guinea fowl, but rather a fine poem, I thought.
Hey, thanks, Dick.
Pingback: Via Negativa » Blog Archive » Old hat, new rabbits