At the Oak Lawn Public Library where
many people work whose names I am not
allowed to say because it frightens them,
there’s a small park next to the library.
A one-lane driveway separates the park
from the two-story library building.
Among the many trees in the small park,
six trees grow along the narrow driveway.
The foliage of the trees spreads out next to
the library’s large, second-floor windows.
Birds in the trees mistake the reflection
of sky in the windows for the real sky
and kill themselves smashing into the glass.
People walking along the driveway to
the train station or to buy a paper
in the morning find their day starting with
colorful dead birds on black asphalt or
the sight of the maintenance man kicking
the dead birds over the low concrete curb
and into the bushes of the small park.
(Tomorrow: Paris Hilton And The Butterflies From Atlantis #2: Paris Hilton)
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