The tribe’s stories began to fade with the elders.
Our story concluded a while ago,
but will truly end when we both decide to forget.
Whether purposely or recklessly.
Tomorrow we’ll end up right where we started,
we’ll start right where we left off,
and we’ll end
God knows where,
but changed for sure.
This story lasted
this story lasts,
and I’m glad we met.
To eat the chicken
you must first fish it from the freezer.
We ate a piece last week
so don’t mind what’s missing.
To get rid of the ice you can wait patiently
and thaw it out in warm water.
Or bring the blow torch and roast the bird
If you’re feeling risky just use the pickaxe
but risk piercing the heart.
The freeze burn is inevitable.
When it’s finally over,
season it with everything you wished
it would taste like.
Roast it like a duck
or fry it like a pig
till the skin is a rich brown.
Slice it up and serve it on a silver platter.
“I taste authentic!” they said
as they licked their fingers and pushed it aside,
waiting for the next dish.