| punk_bird | ||
| superleni |
…and he danced, before the stainless steel coffee urn: shiny, on the grass, in the sun; he romanced the morning, in vanity or rehearsal, for self-love or in hope of the one. he would raise his tail, call three times, pulsating with potential. he would peck at the steel, strut left and right, frustrated yet enraptured. the black cat’s attention was captured. *** they found his body, lifeless, in the hall. the punk bird dances no more. feathered cheek fallen, pale eyelids shut, carpet his deathbed, crest on the floor. my punk bird dances no more. |
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