squawking

still shot…kinda (best i could do)

there’s an eye rolling going on today.  i’m hearing lots of noise and not a lot of substance.  i’m seeing performers and lollygaggers and lazy bums and narcissists and daytrippers and oy vey, get the hell away.  amusing, yes.  seriously?  aw hell no.  let me be to my land of misfit toys, my comforting exile, my words and my foods and my friends.  i am so attuned to my instincts that i don’t seek out any accessories, i don’t seek out flattery, i don’t get enthralled by the charm.  i had more fun chasing the girls around in the neighbor’s yard than listening to that mindless chatter.  looking at chickens and dealing with roosters.  lots of squawking and strutting and it’s all so unimpressive.  i’ve always been more intrigued by the little bird in the corner who doesn’t chatter all that much, gives me something to think about, and can make me soften with a simple look or touch. the ones who are pecking all over me?  i shake, shake, shake it off.  but i’m kind and i’m sweet and i’ll laugh and i’ll play along.  to a point.  then the night’s over.  i’m back on two wheels, purple sundress catching the breeze as i find my way home, sun on its way down and life all around me.  there is nowhere and everywhere i’d rather be.  i am home. i am bliss. i have no bullseye on my back.  i’m no goddamn hen.

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