My little caged bird sings so sweetly for me.
He whistles while I sharpen my knives.
I keep him inside, sometimes his cage hangs in the sun.
The sun moves across the room, it is brightest at 3:05.

It falls across his cage.
He doesn't like the sun.
He prefers the shade.

I cover him at night, he doesn't need to see out into the dark anyway.
Bad things out there.

I found him in the forest, poked him with a stick.
I brought him home and locked him up.
I had the cage!
He likes it better here with me.  I know.
Sing for me! Sing! Sing!

Of places I'll never go.
Of those faces I'll never see.
So sweetly.
Ahhhhh.

I'll never let him go.


Thanks T.S. for the parakeet story

Night after Night

Night after night I sit here and watch her dance.

Sometimes the air gets so hot I can't breathe but I don't care.  I don't come down.
 Not anymore.

The girls, they come up and bring me whiskey.  Plenty of it.

There's my friend Lucky.  He always leans, even when he's drunk.

I can't stand the way some of these girl's are dressin'!

But I love to see her sitting and looking in the mirror.

To be invited up.....that is a big deal.  Means she likes you.

You could just bust in but.... I don't like to treat her that way.

Some nights I just prefer to watch.  From afar. Especially so she can't tell I'm watchin'.

If she knows you're interested, she'll take you for all you've got.

Stay back!  You want her to see me?

You dog!

 Well when I die, they'll be takin' me to the graveyard in Doc Sweeny's Black Moriah!

Believe it or don't.

I still feel a little funny having buried Old Chuck yesterday.

Was that his wife dancing tonight?

Lord, it's hot up here.

I won't go upstairs tonight.

Ever since that bad night/day and night with Apache May, I really haven't been the same.  

The same person I mean.

Who would be?

Christ.

I guess I feel better sleeping outside.

Good night.

the Television

The T.V. is always on, I make sure of that.  I like it best when it's  playing some really inane noise, such as sounds of people that I can't really decipher into words.  The  babble is reassuring.  My T.V. is like a many faceted electronic human caught in a  friendly box shape just for me.  Sounds like friendly friends in the next room.   I always have it playing (it's "playing"!),  just to keep that comforting layer of sound buffering my reality. 

 As I stare transfixed I wonder that  this squawking box should give me any kind of comfort.  It doesn't respond to me, unless it's just to shut up when I mute it or to go away when I end it's life.   It tells me things I don't want to hear, like I need more moisturizer and less hair here, more BETTER hair there.  It tells me everyone is better/happier more successful than I will ever be.   It tries to scare me with vicious reports about bad people (like me) doing bad things (to me).  

Maybe this thing is not my friend at all, it doesn't care about comforting me.  Maybe it's more of a monster crouching in the corner ready to devour my soul the minute I willingly bring it into life!

But look at my T.V.,  it's sitting there, silent and grey, ready, waiting..... It wants me, I can tell.  I can't stand the patient waiting that that electronic picture box is doing,  nonchalantly sitting there expecting   me to acknowledge it,  just waiting for my desire to hear it's voice peak and then I will have no choice...  It is slowly drawing me to it with it's revelatory potential.
 How will it posses me today?

Soon I will break down, I will press the button, I will free the demon.   It will control me again and I will become it's adoring slave.