Do the Birds Wonder
I was born inside a house with no address.
The black SUVs that sit outside are numbered.
The walls keep moving.
The mirrors started showing reflections
I can't recognize,
whispering names
of whom I do not know.
The lawn in the backyard is AstroTurf.
I rolled my ankle twice while outside.
Digital warfare remains at an all-time high,
yet I still have trouble putting down my phone.
7:00 p.m.
Is that a bird
or a drone?
The clouds leave me in awe,
counting sheep
And I'm jealous of the birds—
the way they spread their wings
and simply fly.
They're free.
I wonder if the birds ever look at us
from somewhere above
and think the exact same thing:
What would it be like
to be free?
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