Perhaps the sparrows
sitting up on the sagging
wires above us
are neither praising
nor blaming the day;
maybe they
keep making noises
which are incomprehensible to us
because
we keep expecting
criticism.
*
about the weather
with a neighbor
the way it's fun to play a game
of Simon:
every contestant
down here
is in a fierce competition
to put abstractions
such as 2 and 2
together—
just like every
brutalized animal's
pleasure center
is still a sucker
for a little pattern
recognition.
