I hear my ringtone
is that my phone?
I check, but there are no messages or calls.
Floyd, my myna bird is laughing with my Uncle Pete’s laugh.
Now he is imitating grandma Bee’s snoring noises.
He is such a trickster; an expert mimic, he is one of my favorite toys
briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing briiiiiiing
He sounds exactly like my ringtone!
Now he is screeching like my Cousin Simone.
What’s up with that bird? she asks me, annoyed.
He’s okay, I tell her, his name is Floyd.
But she gets so irritated she finally moves out.
Hooray! Whoppee! Floyd yells with a shout.
Imitating the joy and glee of me.
Afterall, she had outstayed her welcome; this was day twenty-three.
I can't think of anything more absurd
Than chatting with a haughty myna bird
He will outwit me by far
Since he's wiser than I are
He must think I am an ignorant nerd
Marta’s other pets were jealous and sore
They had been replaced by one she did adore
A stupid pig! Groused the myna bird.
The dragon was angry, but said not a word.
yellow cat waited for her chance to annoy the pig, named Pooh.
She tore up the kitchen and tried to blame him too.
Marta saw through it and gave the cat a dustpan and broom.
You will clean this up and also the dining and living room.
Now the cat was irritated, and tried to complain to the dragon.
He knew better than to get involved, he rode away in a wagon.
His last owner had also fallen in love with a large pink pig.
He decided to live with a new family, Mr. and Mrs. Dig.
Marta’s other pets were jealous and sore
They had been replaced by one she did adore
A stupid pig! Groused the myna bird.
The dragon was angry, but said not a word.
yellow cat waited for her chance to annoy the pig, named Pooh.
She tore up the kitchen and tried to blame him too.
Marta saw through it and gave the cat a dustpan and broom.
You will clean this up and also the dining and living room.
Now the cat was irritated, and tried to complain to the dragon.
He knew better than to get involved, he rode away in a wagon.
His last owner had also fallen in love with a large pink pig.
He decided to live with a new family, Mr. and Mrs. Dig.
A myna bird please she said with a grin.
We were all shocked. How had she wandered in?
The store had been locked by our Uncle Ben.
We sold her the bird for a dollar ten.
We were sworn to secrecy, swiftly then.
Bird belonged to crazy grandma Jen.
No one talked. Silent, all ten.
A relief for sure, no more din.
There they were, in the center of
our asphalt cul-de-sac street
circled around their dead companion,
four common myna birds, holding
their own semblance of a funeral.
I slowly backed out of my driveway
and passed by them in quiet reverie.
They didn't attempt to fly away or
even move as I passed by them.
Tears flooded my eyes as I realized
how much they were deeply grieving.
Their friend was truly loved and grieved
as we'd grieve the loss of a loved one.
Later on when I returned home the
dead bird was gone, and so were they.
© Connie Marcum Wong
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