feathered creatures

Blackbirds are egg-laying, feathered creatures. In a cafe if it is a cafe a sparrow isn’t a sparrow until you don’t see a sparrow. You try to cross a sparrow with a crow, you win. You try to show them your palms, you lose. Water doesn’t want to be hot. But listen, in a cafe Jeremy Pann was eating something called Noah’s Dove. He had paid for it with huge, A4-sized bills. Jack Storey was picking ants crawling over the brass stem of the table lamp, tearing them and eating bit by bit. The ants were Eastern European, I was told. A good vacation is a typo and nothing more, dude, someone said. Meanwhile I knew I killed someone and it wasn’t worth it, even though the extraterrestrials didn’t seem to find out.

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