When Jason Was Three

June 12, 2006

The interior of my head as I walked from from the Powell St. Bart station to my office by the stadium last Wed. morning. Unfinished.

When Jason was three years old
he asked his mother why it is
that “chicken” the animal and
“chicken” the food have the same name.
“Because they are the same” she replied
“A Chicken is an animal we eat.”

His eyes grew wide and
from that day forward
he ate neither meat nor eggs
except for when making the
crepes she’d shown him how to make
all those Sunday mornings south of Houston
and he in turn showed me
on certain Wendsdays when we’d
stayed in bed skipping class
in the clasp of fine and fancy sheets
so soft they sloughed the midwest
off of me.


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