snowflake
pop-up shop
OKC

“Then I walked across the street and caught the

Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.”
       -from the song “Sunday Morning Coming Down”
        by Kris Kristofferson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M4ZyB1YejM

 

FRIED CHICKEN

I love to eat fried chicken although

it’s risky business at forty-four.  I
sometimes sit on the Starbucks patio
because it’s on the north side of
Popeye’s Fried Chicken.  The wind
always blows from the south in
Oklahoma, so you can imagine the
aroma.  Which reminds me of a tenuous
dream whereby an attendant peered
out at me from the drive-thru window
underneath a cheap French Quarter
faux balcony with ironwork.  There
were prison bars on the window, and
she was grasping them.  After some
thought I’m not sure if she was supposed
to represent imprisonment by the low
wage horrors of the service industry. 
Or if those bars were to keep me out
here and not in there.  Eating fried chicken. 




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