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2005-02-09 - 2:55 p.m.
I doubt if anyone would believe me, knowing my apparent distaste for birds.
But, I have become one.
Flapping and flapping, banging against the wires.
Squawking and letting feathers loose.
A madwoman with tangled hair and beady black mirrors for eyes.
I have become her. Pecking at seed, pecking at hands, pecking at wounds.
I am this foolish thing. That will sit on a stone, waiting for it to hatch.
With feet not meant to touch the earth, at least not for long.
I have never identified with birds, yet here I am.
A Little Bird. Trying to obey the rules of this thing that surrounds me. This thing that I can't understand.
(Sorry Andie, I ain't hatin' on the birds, truly.)