Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road
If I were a chicken I would cross the road for one of several reasons.
First, there would be food, I believe, scattered pieces of grain carried by the wind wild seed also appearing anywhere anytime even on the black surfaced road itself.
Then there just might be a bunch of other chickens over there and me not wanting to be left out or just wanting to be near.
But even if no one were over there, I could still find good reason for venturing across the road for a bit of shade from the summer's heat, a puddle of rain, greener cooler grass, or maybe just to get closer to a seven year old child who is standing over there in the Real trying to figure out just how the multiplicity of my intentions could possibly be whittled down to the one his companions demand.
The question is anathema. It cannot be answered without getting rid of me.
But does he falter because he can't figure it out, or because he cannot believe what his companions ask of him, to prove he is not chicken or be plucked alive?
Have courage, my friend, and take the ax they've sharpened for you. Things will not be otherwise. But secretly, in your heart of hearts, remember me.
I who no longer exist have ever been a better friend than they.
(Joanna)