as if by common accord, birds

As If By Common Accord, Birds

I can’t ignore the fact that I’m changing any more, that

I heard a tape once in which an actor talked about trying to find

the pill bottle on the mantelpiece and my resolve to spend the day

trying to pay closer attention to the world, about taking things

part of my world for too many years to not be important to me,

was already too much material for me and some of the people

comforted by the familiarity of sliding back into

dictation from them as they tell you who they think

creeps in around the edges of my consciousness; I’m

the eagle on your credit card that only seems to soar

like a white cloud, head to head, body packed to body.

“I haven’t found reading easy lately," I say.

Also consider trying to breathe.

A time to kill, a time to heal.