Like a chicken with its head cut off.

where to go but south?

photo by AMR MED.

I was never a chicken, but when I was
decapitated, I sure felt like one. Round
and around and around I spun, con-
stipated, confused, conned, bleeding.
If kids aren’t supposed to come into
the world anymore, then what about
love? If a wedding is pointless, then
what about eternity? Only a headless
chicken would ask itself such answer-
less questions. But, as I was spinning,
I…