Dogs 2013

FLIGHTLESS FRIGHT
(6/20/13)


I come
home
from work
and look
through the bars
at my little
friend

he's puffed
up
on his perch
breathing heavily
and not chirping
a hello

not looking
at me

"what's
wrong
with Moe?"

I yell
toward
the bedroom

"what
do you mean?"

she answers
with a
question

I explain
his condition
as she comes
into the room
and looks

shakes her
head
and leaves

"no idea

still molting
I guess"

she says
retreating
down the
hall

he's been
molting
for weeks

not singing
for weeks

but still
hopping about
and keeping
his usual
canary schedule

I'm about
to walk out
of the room
when I hear
a buzzing

in the
window
behind his cage
is a big
fat
fly
about the size
of the little
bird's face

I take
the towel
from the treadmill
and kill the sucker
in several tries

as soon
as the insect
is dead
the terrified
yellow turd
is himself
again

"cheep?"

"cheep!"

he's also
hungry

how he knows
right away
that I've
solved
his problem
I have
no idea

if only
I could kill
something
so easily
to solve
mine