Hog Fair

$3 for a monkey. $5 for a banana.

Wild hogs are poetic creatures, caged chickens with one leg are also on the wing of prayer and decrepit salvation. Kids chase hogs with mud in the ego of god, and chickens rest on foam beds. Oggy lapsed into the realm of Hurricane and Lone Star. He's weak and lonely as the roaches have him thinking of decay and his friend, Cow Milk Blues, testified to the prostate and hepatitis problems of his future.
Too many Salvation Armies, too many junkies in his bed. Fortunes have to change soon because he's a day away from learning how to operate the tire repair machines at the garage. That may sound glamorous but it's a step in the wrong direction. I don't feel as molested and maligned as the Austin or Corpus era when the world was determined to break my spirit. I'm doing better. My chickens have come home to roost.

The owner of this animal loved it. It had been attacked by a coyote or maybe run over by an ATV. Ragged. She nursed it back to health or at least kept it alive. "If you hold up one side of her then she can stand up.". I was not going to suggest this animal was being mistreated. The cage is all that is holding it upright. I justified myself and said, "I once knew a chicken with one eye. Her name was Retta. What's your chicken's name?

Sometimes my own emotional cage is all that is holding me upright.