The Bird

I met the bird on my way home today.
Although, I cannot say which way I was going.
The road felt familiar to me, regardless.
You see, I was on my way from the bar.
You know the one.
Where all the washed up people go hoping to finally see an unfamiliar face—
even though all these faces are the same.
Even the ones whose names you don’t know.
You see, I was there with my friends. Pissing away the night and reminiscing on the glory days…
or some stereotypical bullshit like that.
Anyway, you see, all of a sudden it hit me that my life is a metronome that I don’t know how to operate.
Same tic, same pace. Same place, same shtick.
I decided I was done with it all. And I think I used the term friend too generously in the first place, because I really only knew one of their names.
But that’s how it goes, so I decided it was damn near time I took the hint life was giving and went gone.
So, anyway. The bird.
You see, I think I thought the bird was my guide.
More likely, I think It thought that I think too much.
Or whatever thoughts this drowsy flight of mine runs on.
The bird was on the wire, and I was wired.
Maybe that’s why we talked awhile.
But truly, I think It was the only soul around at that moment to listen to me.
Had about as much intelligence as all the conversations filling up my days recently, anyway.
You’re early, It said.
Nah. I’m far too late.
I’m ready for home.
I’m ready for somewhere familiar, I said.
That sweet warm darkness of a nice cozy bed.
It said, it’s too early to go home.
Such is the thing with birds.
They only understand migration.
As the more reasonable of the two,
I decided to humour It.
Now just what am I missing,
by going now?
The laughter, It said.
Which made me pause a moment.
Just what does a bird know of laughter?
The laughter of a bar? That shit’s manufactured anyway. Nothing memorable going on in there. Corporate joy on a dime. Hell, I’d be getting the last laugh anyway when the pain hits everyone.
The morning after, you see.
But of course, a bird would say something so foolish,
it’s a bird.
I don’t care for laughter, I said.
Besides, I was already at the train tracks.
That all too sweet marker of the crossroads.
And really, it would only take five more minutes. And I was already getting cold.
The laughter ain’t worth the walk back, I said.
I bet I already know the jokes before they say ‘em, I said.
As my guide, I expected the bird to honour my wish and allow me to reacquaint myself with some good ol’ peace and quiet.
It squawked.
And I don’t speak bird.
I’m not crazy, ya know.
So I shook my head and resumed my pace.
Pretty easy to win a debate with a bird.
What about the joy, It said.
I huffed, seeing my breath once again.
There ain’t no joy to be had out there tonight, I said.
If I were crazy, I would say the bird was disappointed.
But I’m not, so I carried on.
It hopped the wire some, to catch up.
Have you ever been to the arcade across the street?
If you hate the bar why not go somewhere else, It said.
That’s what I am doing, I said.
But my pace slowed, against my wishes.
The dim glow revelled in my purgatory.
I wished the bird couldn’t speak.
Wished the cold bitter air wouldn’t keep reminding me just how bare I was.
Just how little warmth was in me.
It’s too early to go home, It chimed.
I begged to differ, and debated awhile if I should give a damn.
But it bubbled out of me regardless,
more of an involuntary burp than anything.
That place is for kids, gods dammit!
And I ain’t about to go back for some damn cartoon, I said.
I marched on some, to make up for lost time, or something.
Hoping that the heathen would get the hint, or something.
I was ready to be through the door.
If my guide wouldn’t do the guiding, I’d do it myself.
I’d take charge, you know?
Exercise this agency, or whatever those kids are always screaming about.
Don’t you want to see what it’s like? It chirped.
There It went again, suggesting new ideas.
Hopping alongside me like we were friends.
Ain’t no friends out here tonight.
Even the wind knew what this damned bird was too dense to understand.
I ain’t worth the time.
Why don’t you give it a shot before resting, It said.
I ignored the rotten thing.
Birds don’t even speak, you know.
It’s too early. It’s too early. It’s too early. It chimed.
Why do you even care!
I shouted at that damned thing.
It came outta no where!
Now acting like It knows me.
Because you don’t even know what it is you’re missing,
it’s too early! It said.
That damn broken jukebox only knew one song.
But the wind was listening.
And so I was listening.
It hit me then, this hierarchy stuff.
As the rational one,
I knew there was only one way to end this.
And I’ll tell ya, just to win this gods damn debate.
To prove I’d seen it all.
I turned on around and made my way back some.
To that blasted arcade.
I’ll go for a second, I said.
You’ll love it, It said.
It hopped along with me.
It’s warm in there.
Chipper too, It said.
That arcade had been there forever.
But it was one of those things I never cared for.
Put me in front of a casino and let me gamble with my livelihood.
Yeah, that’s good.
I just never seen a point in arcades.
Senseless.
Doing the gadgets for nothing.
Them prizes suck, you know?
Waste of space, for sure.
But I walked on.
So the bird would shut up.
Just for the bird.
To show It, it was dead wrong.
I went on up to that lit up arcade,
looked at the bar on the other side too.
Familiar like that wart on my big toe.
With any luck, I’d be rid of it lickety-split.
It looked even worse from afar.
Brown and melting and stuff.
A real prize winner.
The people I was with were still there.
I guess I hadn’t been gone long.
Now, the arcade had all sorts of colours.
Like a damn pedicure, all smooth lines and such.
Least it had that going for it.
It’s too early, the bird said once more.
As persistent as ever.
So I walked on in.
And if I’ll be damned, I heard the laughter.
It’s too early, I said.