why is it that there is
always
one bird singing at night?
as if he doesn't realize that his voice carries
for yards
like someone who doesn't know
that the whole house can hear you
when you sing in the shower
this is awkward.
i feel embarrassed for him.
i imagine him
in the daytime
listening to the other little birds
calling back and forth
having their little bird conversations
he's sitting in
and waiting for just the right moment
feels the adrenaline rush
his feathers fluff up
there's a sharp intake of air
and his chest puffs out
just as all the little birds fly away
a social reject bird.
it's sad.
now his song is halting
testing
as if to say
what's so bad about this, anyway?
it lapses into a trailing
lonely monotone
before he seems to
muster up some faith
and tries to sing again
i decide that we are more alike than not
as i suck the night air in
and watch the end of my cigarette burn
knock the ashes to the ground
mulling over conversations
i didn't have
words
i didn't get the chance to speak
but the bird defeats me
he is, at least, singing out loud
i hear you.
**
yes, a bird poem. ...it's like emily dickenson with bumblebees, except that it's everyone with birds. but this really happened. ;)
