1. Tuesday, December 31, 2002

    the end of the old year 

    the crows came down.

    fuckers.

    what are you doing here?

    why me? what the hell have i done to you and they caw theyre so happy that its me this time.

    theyve been sitting on the light poles, waiting.

    they fly above and when i look they land on a clothesline but theyre so big and fat that the line sags and they flap and then tuck their wings behind their back when stability has returned, cocking their head to the side to get a good look at me and my sneer.

    caw, motherfuckers, caw.

    then another one arrives landing on the statute of jebidiah springfield and then another on a fence post and another on an empty clay pot.

    i pull out my .38 and pick the one off the pot and his brothers scatter, cawing. awaiting the flock.

    i see one on the street-cleaning sign and nail him. then another on a trash can, gone.

    i take off the silencer because these birds dont understand, i am not the one to fuck with. i am not the one that they get to harrass anymore. they are the bringer of bad tidings and i am the bringer of joy.

    bam, motherfucker and its loud this time. im just walking up the block, get the fuck away from me. the gun’s barrel is warm against my lower back and in my wake is the death of sadness and fear.

    talk to me birds. tell me why you’re doing this. tell me before i kill you all.

    but they stalk me. they lurk. theyve got the numbers and still i confuse them. they hear the wiz and if it doesnt register to them.

    it must have been a mosquito but wasnt their cousin there?

    oh, look, he’s on the ground with just one wing flapping and look now its not flapping. who is this dark shadow, why wont he stand still, why do the leaders keep changing?

    whats that he’s got pointed at me?