And those moments when the window curtains fly
In the afternoon wind, and it drives your thoughts
Into those what-if kind of thoughts, and you long
To step out of your window and fly, like that bird
With the brown speckles and crooked beak, that
Never sings. You watch it fly into the far-away
Horizon, past the man who sells ices, who lifts his
Tired hands to his brow to watch the bird too. And
The woman reading her romance novel, who had been
Considering whether to buy a rainbow ice, she follows
The man’s gaze, but it’s already too late, because
The bird has flown away, past our immediate world. And
The woman decides to buy a rainbow ice, but the tired
Man drops it on the floor, and a bird that looks a lot like
The brown-speckled bird with the crooked beak, the one
That never sings, hops over to the spilt ice and pecks
At it. The woman, watching the bird, shivers when
A strong wind blows, and the dollar she had been
Holding, it flies out of her hand, and out of sight before
She can catch it. I watch my curtains blow fiercely in
The afternoon wind, and then calm down again, and the
Sun is hidden temporarily by a grey cloud, leaving a
Shadow on my cheek, and breaking my train of
Thought. And the tired man who sells ices gives the
Woman a free rainbow ice, and she walks down the
Street, and the man sees that it is going to rain, so he
Gets ready to leave, and I gaze at the gathering clouds,
So I close my window to keep the rain out.