Sometimes I think I own sorrow
like the man who parades his macaw
up and down the shopping street,
shit on his back, smiling. The bird
is sweet and talkative, but
his wings are clipped. Sorrow kept
too long forgets to leave,
forgets it belongs to everyone and no one,
in a rainforest smashing Brazil nuts
with a hundred other wildly colored beasts.
Featured image: Scarlet Macaws by Nina Hale. CC license.
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