The birds –
They began dancing above the rafters in receiving.
Or that was the first time I cared enough to notice.
Flutter down –
They would.
When you would whistle for them.
I don’t know if they die back there.
In the dark.
But at least it’s slightly more temperate.
Than the hell we’ve been turning the outside into.
Just for our God given right –
To consume a copious amount of slop content.
Quality assurance came –
They started taking points off
for a bird’s existence.
They would count each one.
By one.
I mean, I get we don’t want to cause the next disease outbreak.
But it just seemed sorta insulting
To reduce their existence to a QA score.
I brought some seeds to lure you
To a place
I perceived as a better existence –
More dignifying to your nature.
But I know you don’t want to be there.
Outside –
In the dark.
“The produce pallet has been sitting outside since 4am.”
I sighed in reply, “I’ll go get it.”
After a few conversations on my way, not really motivated to work, I walked out to the loading dock. The rain was gently kissing the sheet metal roofing. My nose savored the moistened air as I took in a deep breath. A tiny dinosaur came wandering out from below while I approached the pallet.
They looked at me with curiosity –
I swear, I saw a tear rolling down their left eye which was angled to view me.
I felt like they knew –
Anything to be in the woods right now, feeling the water droplets bounce through the leaves.
I lazily pulled on the pallet sitting a top the violently crushed salads. “I can only assume some idiot stacked hundreds of pounds of potatoes on top of this,” I thought. The house sparrow was still tilting their head in wonder, as if they were never informed that their long distant ancestors were greater giants than me. I walked down the cement ramp dragging the pallet behind. Upon reaching the disjointed stack of wood I mustered up some of the little will I had to throw the pallet atop it.
I counted the line of yellow trailers as the rain joyfully embraced me. The yellow trailed off into a wooden fence, segregating the townhouses from the fire pit on the store patio we never open for the people living there anyway. “It didn’t turn enough profit,” while feeding me some jumbled talking points about practical community investment or something along those lines. I immediately tuned him out when he started talking.
My body twisted around to stare back up the ramp. I took my phone out of my pocket and coordinated my fingers so precisely, “It’s lovely out on the back dock, some light rain. Anything to be out hiking in this instead of here.” As if I expected her to reply, “Let’s just go live in the woods,” or something along those lines. I meandered my way past the soggy cardboard boxes tossed about the incline by what was probably an art student arranging them in a way that had deep meaning.
I thought about the bird I’ll probably never see again.
If I did see them again, I wouldn’t know if they were the same dinosaur.
I grabbed the boxes of salads, each one.
By one.
Threw them onto the u-frame I had brought with me.
Planted my pathetic limbs, “Why am I going back inside?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
Observed a bird lost in receiving.
“I see we find ourselves in the same predicament.”
Still here pondering if it was the same sparrow that cried with me earlier.
The Lambent 