there was one bird, a blue bird - i took it as a sign - i watched it perch on the fire escape while i did the dishes. now there are more birds - 3 or 4 birds and they never stop their song - what was a whistle has become an auditory assault. i leave my bedroom window wide open daring the band to enter - they circle and circle while singing -i suppose something about being inside seems awful - i am awful for being bothered by birds, awful for being sick of my neighbors baritone bull sessions that last past midnight - awful for wanting to swim in an overly chlorinated pool down the street - awful because i continue to complain inside in sweatpants another grateful day - in the rain and gale my window stays open waiting for an ostrich to step inside - lie beside me in our nest and teach me patience - read me poetry and stroke my ever growing hair.