Free-range chicken on the highway of life

Barrelling down the highway at a hundred miles an hour
looking neither left nor right but straight ahead
you come across a hazard you didn’t quite expect
a double whammy that stops you in your tracks.
She skitters out from nowhere looking neither left nor right
but somewhere just beyond her shoulderblade
she’s searching out for something – couldn’t tell you quite what
but she knows she’ll recognise it when it shows.

She’s just a free-range chicken on the highway of life
scratching with her beak, scritching with her claws
the cars’ll swerve to miss her, as she stretches out her neck
flapping half-opened wings at their surprise.

Marching down the footpath in your snappy business suit
looking neither left nor right but straight ahead
you are pulled up quick smart and fall upon your snout,
as the loaded trolley tangles up your feet.
She wanders out of nowhere looking neither left or right
but somewhere just beyond your right earlobe
she’s window shopping really – doesn’t know what she might buy
but she knows she’ll recognise it when she does.

She’s just a free-range chicken on the footpath of life
scratching with her beak, scritching with her claws
the pedestrians’ll curse her, as she stretches out her neck
flapping half-opened wings in her surprise.

Cruising at the disco in your sexy low-backed dress
looking neither left nor right but in his eyes
you’re edged right off the dance floor and up against the bar
by the charming stranger who’s just danced into your life.
He’s schmoozed his way from nowhere looking neither wrong or right
but somewhere just beyond your bank account
he’s trying maybe buying  when he knows what you have got
but you’ll never recognise it till he does.

He’s just a free-range rooster in the backyard of life
scratching and a’flapping on the fence.
You’ll have time enough to curse him, as he stretches out his neck
crowing his delight at your expense.

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