Chicks

The chick in the egg picks at the shell, cracks open one oval world, and enters another oval world.

“Cheep . . . cheep . . . cheep” is the salutation of the newcomer, the emigrant, the casual at the gates of the new world.

“Cheep . . . cheep” . . . from oval to oval, sunset to sunset, star to star.

It is at the door of this house, this teeny weeny eggshell exit, it is here men say a riddle and jeer each other: who are you? where do you go from here?

(In the academies many books, at the circus many sacks of peanuts, at the club rooms many cigar butts.)

“Cheep . . . cheep” . . . from oval to oval, sunset to sunset, star to star.
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