Coffee: Maxwell House Drip, Office Coffee
A coworker told me a story about this bird that dropped on her apartment patio in Ukraine. She was in the peace corps. They sent her to Ukraine.
The way she describes it, the bird was a black swallow that got caught in the apartment’s netting. She didn’t know what to do with it. The bird was thrashing around. So she puts on rubber gloves and rain boots and pulls her hair into a hoodie. All bundled up. Years ago, her older brother would tell her to pull her hood up at night or bats would be attracted to her hair. She gets the bird undone and it flies away.
The image of her dressed to the nines in bird-survival gear really stuck to me. I’ve been laughing about it the whole way home.
Sometimes I think about the stranger things that make people afraid. I have an irrational fear of mosquito eaters. They’re long legs and drifty ways of flying. Put one in the same room with me and I’m side-eyeing it. Still, if one gets trapped in the apartment, I muster up and take it out.
I wonder what happened to that Ukrainian swallow? Did it live a good life? Did it raise a family? Are it’s great-great-great grandkids getting caught in other apartment patios this winter? And if they are, who’s around to rescue them?
Novel Count: 27,062
Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami
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Migration to a town whereMaps & Atlases, The Ongoing Horrible
Tree swallows houses
Migration to a town where
Tree, swallows, houses
Like a match you’ve started
We’re all ageing doubles
We sing, hello, hello, hello
We danced shoes on shoes
To the sound of the spinning machine
We slept arm-in-arm
So soundly ignoring the outside sounds of the
Ongoing horrible scene