'Chickens and a Tilting Axis' by Stella Turner

            

Do chickens have lips? That was all that was typed on a sheet of paper, left lying on the seat of the train. What a stupid question! Chickens have beaks, never liked birds of any description because they peck. Feeding ducks always held me in dread, children offering up stale bread. I imagined torn digits and blood squirting out big time, mothers fainting and fathers beating off the predators.

I open up my lap top and type in the three words. Varieties of fowl appear and a detailed description of beaks and a positive no to lips. One definition is an indirect way of saying no like is the pope catholic or do camels cross deserts are for yes.

I look up scanning the faces of my usual companions. Creatures of habit we all seem to want to sit in the same seats at the same table. Miserable Mike who always scowls, Arty Farty Pamela reading the galley leaflets with a dreamy expression all over her pale face and Gorgeous Greg who seems to be asleep the entire journey and miraculously wakes up seconds before his stop. Made up names of course we’ve never spoken to each other. Wonder what they call me Aloof Adele or Efficient Elaine? I pride myself on my sharp business suits, severe hair style and designer briefcase.

I watch her read the note. Will it start a conversation? She’s so beautiful but has eyes only for the bloke that sleeps all the time. He has perfect symmetry. Girls appreciate that. Thought I might invite her to the Chicken Festival. No chickens just great music, great food and great company. Start of the Summer Equinox, the earth’s axis tilting like she tilting mine. Would it hurt to start a conversation with her? Do Chickens have lips?