the turkey

I was walking my dog the other day when we ran into the turkey.

“Good morning turkey”, I said.
“Good morning,” said the turkey.
“I see you’re all dressed up, anything special coming up?”, I asked.
“I was invited for dinner by my American friend”, the turkey said.
“Your American friend?”
“Yes, my American friend”, the turkey said, “it’s a special dinner they said, they want to give me thanks, they said.”

I saw the excitement in the turkey’s eyes.

The next morning, the turkey wasn’t home.

update 2025-03-10

It happened. My biggest fear came true: there’s people actually reading the vignettes, and, worse, thinking there’s actual meaning in them. Deeper messages. Musings. Meditations. Mythical truths.

They are right.

So thank you, dear reader, for sharing your thoughts.

reader “I have many more questions about the poem.

A bulk of it pertains to the awareness of the turkey and his ability to understand his impending fate. Is this a musing about free will versus predestination? If the turkey were given the information of what was coming, would he be able to make a different choice for himself and not attend this celebration? Or must the turkey forever remain ignorant because he is and will always be resigned to his fate - it was predetermined and thus unchangeable? He will always be eaten and killed because that is his fate and there is no deviation from this path- awareness is not an option and irrelevant?

Also, is the bystander in the poem with whom the turkey is speaking, aware of what is happening or going to happen to the turkey? In this case is the bystander a malevolent force, keenly aware of the turkey’s horrific fate, but refusing to reveal the information lest the turkey save himself? Or is the bystander unaware himself of the actions that will befall this doomed turkey? Or is this bystander aware but unable to alter the fate of the turkey, so chooses to keep the turkey ignorant of his fate as an act of mercy or perceived kindness?

Are we, the readers of the poem, the only parties with the information pertaining to the turkey’s fate? And despite possessing this knowledge, we are unable to make any meaningful impact and impart the turkey with the information necessary to save itself. Is this a blistering indictment of those who are spectators, witnessing what will be a horrific fate, and doing nothing to stop it? Is it us, the readers of the poem, who are now the villain in this terrible story because we alone are the ones who could save the turkey but unfortunately, and sadly, we are unable to change the course of its fate? How must we go on???”

me First: thank you for your elaborate and erudite response. This is all true and false and ambiguous at the same time. “How must we go on?”, well, the truth doesn’t exist but Sysiphus was a happy man. If life is pointless, absurd, it doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy it. Misery anyway comes, it will find you inexorably so don’t put any effort in focusing on that. What matters is how well you walk through the fire. If you can enjoy headwinds, you’re there.

Second, some counter questions to add more confusion: why do you think the turkey is dead? Where does it say so? It only says the turkey wasn’t at home the next morning. Could it be the dinner party got out of hand and the turkey joined their hosts to the karaoke place singing “you never walk alone” together then finding himself in a shady bar only to forget the combination of his bike lock leading to the police inquiring him and taking him to the bureau for a night in the government hotel (free for all)?

Third, my compliments for dissecting the perspectives of the story providing different lenses to what is happening: the turkey, the bystander / narrator and us, the readers. Yes, those are exactly the effects you’d be looking for when writing this kind of prose (poem, sorry, poem). Who, what, where, why, how? We don’t know. But you got one thing right (and wrong): “Is it us, the readers of the poem, who are now the villains in this terrible story?”. Yes, we are the villains. But I don’t find the story particularly terrible.