A Sun Conure Leaving the Bus

10 Feb

it was cold in the mountians, and
a bumpy jerky ride with many stops
along the way. You were in a small carry on bag.
We heard your sqwuaks of rage the whole ride.

We enjoyed the silence your departure would bring,
as we watched the mountain man-
dressed like he was a forest
floor in autumn- take you
out of your prisonbag.

You tried to fly away.
We hoped you would make it.

You bit the mountains hands, and
we laughed- getting back onto the bus
on the side of a mountain-
parked next to a billboard.

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