the girls and the birds

the girls were young
and worked the
streets
but often couldn’t
score, they
ended up
in my hotel
room
3 or 4 of
them
sucking at the
wine,
hair in face,
runs over in
stockings,
cursing, telling
stories…

somehow
those were
peaceful
nights

but really
they reminded me
of long
ago
when I was a
boy
watching my grand-
mother’s
canaries make
droppings
into their
seed
and into their
water
and the
canaries were
beautiful
and chattered
but
never
sang.