Today I Am Feeling Radical about Hypothetical Things
Which Exist in a Parenthetical Way
I have an urge to comb my hair
so I comb my hair and a bird falls out.
It is February, month of buses and slush.
I put my hat on and make an
I just put my hat on face to no one.
There is no one on the bus.
I pour coffee over my face and read a book.
I want to catch this bird
as it adjusts its fall into flying
without crippling its wings
and look into its eyes and
have a “mutual recognition” with it
or even communicate telepathically with it.
I caught you I’ll think. You caught me
it will think back, and I’ll hold it
until it stops shaking.
Then I’ll release it
and pull my arm back inside the bus
and the bird will be a bird ghost
and there won’t be a bus
and it won’t be February.