I go outside and see the culprit: this hairball cluster of what used to be a robin, one wing torqued stiff like a bent toilet brush, its tiny bird feet gone or sucked so far into its gut as to be invisible. I think about picking it up and wrapping it in newsprint and burying it back where we keep the garbage and recycle cans but I don’t do any of that. Instead I go inside and pour more coffee and then the next bird crashes into the window, only I’m watching clear-eyed as this one kisses it hard. That’s the problem with having windows that are too clean: it’s as if nothing’s there, no barrier or separation, while in the end it’s the very thing which does you in.picture window
“I know a Buddhist,” I started.
“Spare me that bullshit,” she snapped.
“No, all I’m saying is it’s really easy to get rid of your stuff these days. EBay and that. If you go you should sell everything and just go, just go with your jeans and passport, you know? I’ve thought about that. Hell, if you do it like that, I’ll come.”
“Sure. Why not?”larvae
“Hey, do you think we should put little people in there?”
“People? Like, models?”
“I don’t know. Little gnomes or something.”
“That’s a bit creepy. Not to mention tacky. Really?”
“I guess not,” she said, placing the bowl back down on the shelf. “You’re right. I just like having the green around.”the terrarium