no crow. i’ll ask

what you are up

to later. sometime

when cement isn’t

your best friend when

you peck it while the

others call out cat food

cat food. i suppose i love crows. the way they

walk with their wings in the

pockets of their skirts

and how they know your face and why you chase

them away armed with hay. they’re smarter

with their square windows and tools

and square handles where my windows

arch like heart shaped hands, white

shadows like handles surrounding

crows like a vice

on a

vase with birds when deciding

i try to paint them

nice