Читать книгу Splitting an Order - Ted Kooser - Страница 11

Near a Mall

On a hot, windy day, at the hour

when people get off work, I saw

along a busy street an Asian man

with long black hair, carrying

a rubber chicken-suit, his arms

clasped round its waist. The chicken,

a good foot taller, half of its air

let out, was alive in the breeze,

its wild-eyed head with red comb

and slack beak bobbing and pecking,

though it was losing, its soft claws

knuckles-down over the concrete.

Passersby were honking and laughing,

giving a thumbs-up, a high-sign

to the little man, his long hair

tossed across his sweaty face,

wrestling his chicken, his place of

employment, within which all day

he’d been making a living,

peering out through a slit

and waving his wings as we passed.