Eat My Wings
The parrots have occupied our tree again. Kicked all the little birdies out.
Kicked the owl out, the blue jay, the woodpecker, the crows.
The raccoon family, the possum, the slugs, the doodlebugs.
They kicked out the bat family. Kicked out the dove. Kicked out the bees.
Kicked out the gingerbread, kicked out the brains of this operation.
The loud parrots kicked out young hungry veterans and the rice maker.
They kicked out the old rusty kettle, kicked out the kickstand,
And with it the k-stand the c-stand the C-SPAN and the 4chan.
Kicked out my new friends Desert Rat and Squid,
Kicked out Mars, kicked out Billy the Kid.
They kicked out surveillance footage and your kinky device charger.
They'd kick out the prawns and go bolder and larger.
They'd kick all your memories of easier times,
Out to the farthest patchiest reaches of you mind,
And then dig around your soapstone skull for more to disembark,
I once heard that the parrots kicked out
From a tree. My tree. The one out my window.
Where the bold neighbor cat sways, hunting
Who squall, flap and wreak havoc.
Before their final feat on display.
They don't kick me out.
They carry me away.