of birds and raindocument 1.may 17th."if this is how it startshow hard is the rest going to be?"may 18th passes. so does june 22nd.in the time between andafter, I am left only with my birdsand the rainand it rains all the time.august 7th. I can no longer hearthe geiger-counter clicking of the guttersover the echoes of crows andcar horns, though the mud thatdevours my shoelaces each morningtells me the storm still hits whileI'm asleep.november 24th and even the pigeonshave gone. buildings boarded up,graffitiall over my car.nothing shiny left for themto shit on.january 6th now--eight months and severalthousandbroken metaphors later,the words still flutter cold inmy hands, my fingerspressing snow angelsinto the wings nestled in mypalms. I caught themstaring at mewith the same wrinkled face the moon wearsat six-thirty in the morning, knowingthat the sunis coming.