I think about you.

words by Liah Chung

A bird pooped on my head today and I thought about you.  Not because you remind me of poop but because you never gave a shit where your shit landed.  Because you always flew above the rest of us even as you ate and used and abused everything we gave to you.  Because you migrated seasonally, leaving us every single year, and for some unknowable reason I always took you back.  Because you will get hit by a truck or get shot down on the mountain or run into a window like a stupid, mindless drone, and you will regret ever thinking you could fly higher than us.  The liquid on my head feels cool and wet, slimy and pasty at the same time.  I thought it was water at first.  But my searching fingers came away with a splatter of paint, a glowing, purplish red resembling your favorite blueberry jam.  It looked like your scars.  It had your scent.  So I guess you remind me of poop too.