we’re watching a game-show on tv
only for a minute as we flip through the channels
and never agree
only for a minute
during which a man with a chicken
held beneath one arm appears
to take his turn
I would say it was surreal
but everything is normal on tv
so anyway, the man with the chicken
who looks so comfortable nestled
into the crook of the man’s elbow
it occurs to me it’s a pet
or a service chicken
are there service chickens
plump white birds trained to warble
thick low trills of reassurement
against one’s cheek
whose feathers one might smooth
in search of comfort
in times of stress
anyway, the man with the chicken
steps up to the emcee and hands him
the bird
unceremoniously
causing me to reassess the depth of their relationship
and it is into the ensuing vision of clumsy grasps and protesting wings and angry squawks
that she
speaking as the chicken
victim of possible sexual assault
yells out fiercely
I don’t know this man!
Get your hands off of me!
I don’t know you like that!
911 motherfuckers!
Somebody get the authorities up in this bitch!
I switch the channel to an animated presentation
of depression’s truths
only for a minute
I smooth her hair
press her laughter to my cheek
don’t swear, I whisper
but she knows I mean
don’t go

.