Olive

Birds in the rain

I overheard this morning

One, an albino-breasted Robin lady

The other, the always-humble female Cardinal

A Noticer, that Robin was, and piped right up to ask

“Are you sick, Miss Olive?”

“Heartsick,” Olive sang sadly

Belying her humility, but with head still hung low

“I’ll always believe I was the better bird.”

Tunnel Visions

You are the wrong kind of torque

An un-fun velocity

A ballsy, bitter ride

In an ego-driven coupe

I’d prayed to survive

I am the wanted-to-walk

An emotional dallier

A noticing, freak-of-nature

In a too-long skirt length

You’d failed to ally