Chicken began to cry then or seemed to cry, to weep or seemed to weep, until they heard the sound of a grown man weeping, an old man who slept on a charred mattress, whose life savings in tattoos had faded to a tracery of ash, whose crotch hair was sparse and gray, whose flesh hung slack on his bones, whose only trespass on life was a flat guitar and a remembered and pitiful air of I don't know where it is, sir, but I'll find it, sir, and whose name was known nowhere, nowhere in the far reaches of the earth or in the far reaches of his memory, where, when he talked to himself, he talked to himself as Chicken Number Two.
In the passage from John Cheever's "Falconer," there is a poignant scene conveying deep emotional distress. A character, Chicken, is depicted as experiencing a profound form of sorrow, which transitions to the sound of an old man weeping. This man, despite his broken existence, retains a flicker of hope, suggesting a lingering desire for connection or meaning. His life is marked by loss, encapsulated in the fading tattoos that symbolize his past.
The vivid imagery of the old man's condition, such as his sparse gray hair and slack flesh, paints a picture of a life marred by hardship. He reflects on his existence through the lens of his music, holding onto memories associated with his guitar. Yet, his anonymity and sense of purposelessness resonate deeply, emphasizing themes of forgotten lives and the search for identity in a world that has moved on.