they squawk about it at 5 am
black birds high up in the branches of the silver maple
across the street.
I imagine they have much to talk about,
her theory that there is better street food,
(the good, fatty stuff still half wrapped)
the next town over.
the sister's opinion is that life is good enough here.
look how many of us there are in the tree,
all well fed with Boulder trash.
they wake up before the sun comes over the horizon,
my theory being that they went to bed at dusk, his
opinion that black birds are simply the most
annoying creatures ever.
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