—THERE’S JUST SOMETHING ABOUT IT THAT FREAKS ME OUT

                                                         Blur

Another crow crashes into my dizzy window. There must be hundreds. Of reasons. So many pillows to fluff. Rip to pieces. Someone downstairs is making a case. Someone outside is casting in an alley. It could be the neighbor mispronouncing detritus. Fondling a niece or nephew. Another man down the street has his eye on unprotected sex. Transferring secrets between his pants pockets. I don’t trust the sidewalk to tell me where I am. If it’s a fever I’m wearing, I’ll send out for another rolodex. I’ll love whatever is unrecognizable or ashen. Faded newsprint. The scorched earth. But never you.