INTERGENERATIONAL
GENDER CRISIS
(near ames, iowa)
I can't eat anything anymore. Ten million chickens
a month, fed on diets of feather meal and cattle brains,
unable to move, in festered confines of chicken cells.
It's no wonder I don't know who I am. Cancer rates
among poultry workers are abnormally high, and
chicken diseases are rampant. Want fries with that?
-
Oh all you meat and potato men, let me watch you
gut-shoot a deer and then process it for food. Please
let me watch. Potato farmers in Iowa like killing
things they call game-meat, and they defend
by saying 'at least we eat it.' Look out the
back-barn door, there's another one.
-
'That bullet in your rifle, young man, it does not opt you
out of an insane system - your neo-hunter-gathering
- it only puts you deeper in.' That's what the guy with
the clipboard said taking the survey about vegetarian
living. They laughed his fat ass out of the mall.
-
One kid there, I thought he was a guy but he thought he
was a girl and it turned out he was a girl who wanted to be
a guy and I figured sure anyway, everyone's got to eat.
They're funny like that in these faraway places, and
funny like that too on these strange farmland scenes.
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