Synaesthesia Magazine Cities - Page 77

The first crow stretches a wing like its hailing a cab

The second spreads both like its taking off a trenchcoat

The first eyeballs me one more time,

opening its beak to caw:

“Think he’s up to something, bawss?”

And the second crow blinks and turns to me

it shakes its feathers and replies

“Nah kid, he ain’t up to nothin’”

The second all “somethin’s always up, kid”

and “can’tcha feel it, kid?”

and “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

by Harry Harris