*America stop honking I know what I’m doing*

upon yawning commute for the 9AM — the reluctance
of a realworldolescent — nearly a hundred birds: a species

small and gray, urban, name unknown to knowledge,
swooped about in unison above the still, accepted wait

at light of red; finally

something natural, worthwhile.  introducing change
to my mundane: flight school, artwork in the open air.

swift, wheeling maneuvers behind each unidentifiable
and momentary leader, anonymous but for milliseconds:

the decision-maker switches every time direction does —
the useful beauty of anyone initiating a new acrobatic,

no matter how ephemeral.

in the sight of which, overwhelming the well, feeling
lately like I’ve been typing into a typewriter without paper,

never wanted a light to stay red so bad before in all my life.


From Poemergency Room by Paul Siegell, Otoliths Books.  Copyright©2008 by Paul Siegell.  First published in GHOTI in 2006.  Used by permission of the poet.