sunny seventy-nine,
but it feels like seventy-eight,
and it's blue to the horizon
no matter which way I turn

a thousand eyes or more
roam over a pair well matched,
spotting bald over scarlet
and envying the image of freedom

they don't see me like I do,
they don't see me at all

quick stop at Quik Trip,
amazing how that plays out,
and Redemption serves as my bar stool
as I chew on a bit of cheap cheese

another fan comments
on that amazing glistening ride,
and mentions how "his" is in the shop...
I can tell he's lying, just to relate

I don't see them like they do,
they don't see it at all

a throbbing in my knuckles
and the breeze in my face
announce to the world
that I'm leaving with a roar

half of a cheap chew of cheese
is pinned under my right thigh
to save it for later,
away from the milling masses

they don't see the world as I do,
they don't see it at all

and a right, and a left,
then a left, and a right,
put a man in a different location
but still in the same position

and faithful old Redemption
serves as cafe chair, and table,
as the last half of cheap cheese
goes down like a bitter pill

not a single soul here knows me,
acting like they can't see me at all




great-tailed grackles are posted
on the fence, on the light post, in the tree,
and they're singing of simpler things
separately, yet together,
as a choir near a hundred voices strong

a pre-teen boy and a buxom young girl
round the corner on the trail by my spot,
and she's got that look on her face
as she jogs slightly ahead
of that fuzz covered grin

I wonder if they tell the same tale?



they stop, she stretches,
lithe limbs put on display
as first one foot, then another
find flaunting rest on the fence

and I chuckle as a young man drools
like a fool as he looks her over
wondering how to impress her
before she's done and runs away

she doesn't see him like he sees her,
and she doesn't seem to see it at all

hormones in a whirlwind
and his body a tempest,
he stretches like she does
and, with a yelp, falls right in her arms

she giggles in consternation
as she sees that he's suddenly found heaven,
so with a heave and a sigh
they part, and she runs away

he doesn't understand like she does,
he doesn't see it at all

the grackles are suddenly mocking,
a cacophony of whistles and chirps
with the ringing of singing
suddenly much louder than before

a dainty brown lady has arrived,
and she's stirring the grass
with her head down low
and tail feathers all on display

seems she enjoys the calls,
from the shadows, and the poles, and the fence
'til one lucky lad gets some courage
and comes down to plead his case

she doesn't see him like he sees her,
and he doesn't seem to see it at all

shining armor, all blue-black-purple,
with a chortle in his throat
and a hitch in his wing-spread step
let her know what he's all about

two birds dance, as the others all quiet,
with a duck and a weave and a flap

and suddenly the world finds a different rhythm
so unlike what you and I are used to,
and the wind blows the trees just like the grass,
and the water on a nearby pond ripples,
and the heat from the sun soaks into my head
from the reflection of a passion red glow

and the chit chat of fine chat and gravel
sings new songs under slow running soles
as the people file by in oblivion
not knowing, not slowing, just going
and going, and going, and going,
never slowing for the knowing
they all wish they had...

brown beauty chortles in consternation
as she sees that he's suddenly found heaven,
and with a flap of her wings, she flies
whilst he still dances around all the lies

and the world snaps
right back into reality

grand looking great-tailed grackle
looking, for the world, like painted perfection,
shimmering blue-purple-black
in a field full of sun...
                                 and dismay

I wonder if all those bird calls are in mockery?

regardless, he looks over his shoulder
with what equates to a smirk on his face
as he struts, once or twice, just a little bit more
as if he knew exactly what he's doing
then flies ever silently away

not to where he started,
but rather away from the shame,
all the while, just a little over five feet away
the brown lady starts again with her play




I left them all there, the great-tailed grackles,
and the trees, and the grass, and that place,
and I rode away with a new understanding
that we're all, though so tellingly different,
like the beasts, we're exactly the same

and the flash of white lines, with the bleating of horns,
settled me back into that same old rhythm
as I imagined the way you danced, and preened,
and called to me from the depths of my shadows

and I thought on that day I got brave
and told you what I saw in your eyes,
and how, after a quick song and dance,
you flew...

you don't see me like I see you,
you don't seem to want to see me at all



settle into the rhythm fool,
just settle into the rhythm



sunny seventy-nine,
but it feels like seventy-eight,
and it's blue to the horizon
no matter which way I turn

a thousand eyes or more
roam over a pair well matched,
spotting bald over scarlet
and envying the image of freedom

they don't see me like I do,
they don't see me at all



I'm not what they want to be