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She is coming home tonight, been away for two days.
Bought her, what she likes… a well roasted chicken.
On the farm, where I was brought up, old hens that
didn’t lay eggs as before, had heads chopped off and
ended up in the pot. Incredible tough meat, had to boil
it for hours. Never liked the smell in a chicken coop,
I think concentration camps must have stunk like that,
too many bodies in small rooms and no escape.
The coop’s capo wasn’t safe either, when it didn’t
perform as before, off with its head. When she enjoys
her roasted chicken with lemon sauce, I will eat a burger,
since it doesn’t look remotely like a dead animal and as
I have never seen a dead cow, only milked them every
morning at five, it will taste ok with Italian salad.
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