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Monday, August 20, 2012

There is a Bird



I know there is a bird
sitting on the trough
that gathers rain
from the covered porch
at the back of the house
the rain that falls when it wants
to fill these small rivers
that become larger rivers

This bird is there
if only for a few minutes
before he flys away
to poo somewhere else
because that is how I knew
he was there

Suddenly a white glob
dropped through my
line of sight
between me
the air in the house
the double pains of door glass
the screen on the door
the air on the porch
the screen on the porch
me looking at the tree
and poo falling to the ground
from the ass of a bird

Oh Bird with poo of white
please take your unclean ass
to another porch
where there aren't poets
who see everything
and dream of a world without
white poo
It wasn't what I wanted to see today

I'd had thoughts of living on the prairie
while putting a bedspread in the washer
living alone on the prairie 500 years ago
trying to survive the hail and the winter

Instead
oh imageless bird
because of you my thoughts
are of poo
now poo on the prairie
herds of great pooing buffalo
and one dumb naked poet
dodging enormous flops of poo
hail stones and winter snows
and it's not even time for cocktails


Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick

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