Flyway

When you were coming up the pass in your sing song way

I knew it was drive time

When your skull alit aloo and split, its bright configuration

Tuning in, tuning out

I knew I knew

When you came up on a certain age - intend on glee, invite proclivity

When you marked a cut line

While you were spinning rhymes like stones out of your pocket

Whereas I was trying to pin myself to the moment

Whereas I wish people wouldn't inquire

You weren't seeing or feeling

Anything you didn't place in your own bowl

You intend on the door, best not to speak

When the gulls were roped by a shore of shallow fill

Generously giving more than an acre

For salt flats, crabs, and tinkering sparrows

I knew their days were numbered

When the gutters filled

And the rain spit up into the downstairs launderette

Flash flooding the barricade of rogue appliances and

Propelling a million dust bunnies into liquid state

It was the picture of a grey-brown mess

Pigs flew too

Radioing in, radioing out

Indeed, old lovers flocked like one hundred snowbirds on the Flyway

A factory churning out chicks in the Canadian boreal

Descending on the continent