I try to listen
but barely fake it
he talks and my eyes glaze
my ears hear sounds
like the hum of bees
like horses galloping
like birds in a giant cloud
folding in on itself
singing a chorus
that I know is just random
but it sounds coordinated
he talks and he talks
about jobs just missed
the last job he held
where people like him sleep
and how they get blankets
to hold out the cold
it’s not his fault, he says
there are no jobs to find
and if there were
he'd have to bathe to apply
he’d need clean clothes
he remembers his wife
and hopes she is well
her and the three kids
maybe he can find them
once he finds a job
but for now he prays
every night, every morning
that they are making it
better than he is
the sparrows behind him
launch into the air
swirl into a sparrow-storm
and fly past the trees
fly past the power lines
fly toward the sun
and he too comes apart
into bird-sized pieces
that swirl into the air
briefly making a cloud
then rising, rising, rising
into the air and toward the sun
becoming thin as smoke as they rise
and I recognize
I talk and I talk
it is not my fault either
and I don’t know what to do
I can give him five dollars
but that’s not even a meal
maybe a bath
probably just some more to drink
and I feel myself
tearing apart too
a cloud of birds
rising
with nowhere to land
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