I couldn’t help but smile
when a bird outside our kitchen
trilled “Whew whew whew!”
Then it switched to “Wee-oop
whee-oop whee-oop!”
“Listen to that!” I cried aloud,
as Kim kept chopping her kale.
I went to the screen for a toke
while the bird continued.
The singing abruptly stopped,
and so did I.
I put away my pipe
and started a gluten-free diet.
I cancelled our subscription
to the New York Times,
and filed for divorce.
This was no surprise to Kim.
“You were always an asshole,”
she said. “Same as that
fucking bird.”
