songbird

10/10/02 SONGBIRD: Songs my friend Charles taught me


There’s a tiny songbird in my heart trying to get out
But I rarely let him.
Instead I drown him with dope and intellect and simmering rage
Or I stuff him in a box of fears buried in the cellar
And pretend not to hear his whistling chirps.

There’s a tiny songbird in my heart trying to get out
But I rarely let him.
“Keep it down,” I say. “Are you trying to ruin me?”
“I don’t want your help,” I tell him.
“You wanna make me all soft?”

There’s a tiny songbird in my heart trying to get out
But I rarely let him.
Occasionally, when I’m alone at night, I draw the shades and take him from his cage
And let him flutter about the room, stretching his atrophied wings.
His indigo feathers backlit by a waxing moon peeking through a crack in the blinds

There’s a tiny songbird in my heart trying to get out
But I rarely let him.
I took him out in public once, and he flew away.
I was sure he was gone forever
Until my heart flickered with his next escape.

There’s a tiny songbird in my heart trying to get out
But I rarely let him.