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Fair is Fowlby Robert Schechter“I’m bored,” Jack told the madame, “of your women.And yet I am not gay and don't want men. Is there a room I might indulge my whim in to sample something different now and then?” “I know just what you mean,” the madame told him. “Go up the stairs, the first door on your right, and you’ll find what you want.” Her promise sold him. Eagerly he bounded up the flight and burst into the room the madame spoke of. And there he found a chicken! Ten feet tall! At first he thought that he’d been made a joke of, but then he thought, “It’s different, after all. . . .” The next day he returned and said, “Though I adored the chicken, is there something new and different that it’s worth my while to try?” The madame answered, “Try door number two.” So Jack went up the stairs and tried the door the brothel’s friendly madame recommended. There was no chicken this time, that’s for sure, just six or seven old men who attended a boring show that took place just behind a one-way mirror: women making love. He watched a bit but, sadly, did not find the kinky pleasure he’d been dreaming of. He told a nearby man, “What can I say? There’s nothing here to make my heartbeat quicken.” “You’re right,” the man replied, “but yesterday you could have watched some nutcase fuck a chicken!”
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Robert Schechter has had poems and translations published in Light Quarterly, Anon, Evansville Review, Poetry East, among other journals.