Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Every Single Parakeet (Day 77)


He flicked the tip of his cigarette 
into a crystal ashtray—a wry object, 
he thought—and continued: 
"People believe the most 
expensive sentences they read, 
wanting to know what's inside 
every single parakeet and canary,
what's happening in the past, 
in apricot nectar, and in Barbie's Dream 
Machine." The other guests nodded. 
One woman's steely bob swung 
forward and backward 
with each movement 
of her head, mesmerizing him. 
"Now, we turn to strategy instead 
of chopsticks," she said. "It's consistent,  
it's complicated, clean and direct, 
its everything to everyone." 
A moment of silence 
as twelve wineglasses were raised, 
as the scent of sophisticated 
pondering filled the room, like lilies 
on a hot day. A flushed, jovial man 
proposed a toast: "Do the right thing. 
Sign up—there's no reason not to!" 
The hostess sighed. Not for a moment 
had the gentle tapping 
of her fingernail on the table 
been interrupted.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six