Yesterday was the final day of winter
though he didn't know it driving to work
on a Sunday with no traffic on the
highway.
He noticed Robins in small groups of
three or four darting about with a sort
of teenage exuberance, in fact he hit one
of the revelers with his car.
There wasn't time to react, though he saw
it flying in low from his right oblivious
to the car bearing down at 70 miles per hour,
yelling joyful nonsense to its friends.
He yelled too, hearing the light thump of bird-body
against the plastic of his bumper though in the rearview
he didn't see the bird fall or fly and imagined it
stuck in his grill looking beautiful and untouched like
that Empire State Building jumper on the cover of
a 1940's Life Magazine.
Like it or not, he murdered the Harbinger of Spring
while scrambling to get to work, grubbing for money,
maniacally running down the only thing that might
have saved him from eternal winter - you know?
The author started spinning that kind of narrative -
giving the event Apocalyptic significance because
the author tends to write and rewrite that kind of story-
but as it happens he was also listening to Steinbeck.
The audio book story line advanced as he drove,
and the forward motion had the effect of digestion
upon the Robin Incident so that within ten minutes
it was a part of the remote past, nearly forgotten.
He thought there is genius in that approach -
moving forward without assigning significance,
and he thought of her moving forward from him
in a similar fashion, and then he started thinking of
himself as the bird with X's for eyes, spinning
along the surface of the highway, thinking of love.
though he didn't know it driving to work
on a Sunday with no traffic on the
highway.
He noticed Robins in small groups of
three or four darting about with a sort
of teenage exuberance, in fact he hit one
of the revelers with his car.
There wasn't time to react, though he saw
it flying in low from his right oblivious
to the car bearing down at 70 miles per hour,
yelling joyful nonsense to its friends.
He yelled too, hearing the light thump of bird-body
against the plastic of his bumper though in the rearview
he didn't see the bird fall or fly and imagined it
stuck in his grill looking beautiful and untouched like
that Empire State Building jumper on the cover of
a 1940's Life Magazine.
Like it or not, he murdered the Harbinger of Spring
while scrambling to get to work, grubbing for money,
maniacally running down the only thing that might
have saved him from eternal winter - you know?
The author started spinning that kind of narrative -
giving the event Apocalyptic significance because
the author tends to write and rewrite that kind of story-
but as it happens he was also listening to Steinbeck.
The audio book story line advanced as he drove,
and the forward motion had the effect of digestion
upon the Robin Incident so that within ten minutes
it was a part of the remote past, nearly forgotten.
He thought there is genius in that approach -
moving forward without assigning significance,
and he thought of her moving forward from him
in a similar fashion, and then he started thinking of
himself as the bird with X's for eyes, spinning
along the surface of the highway, thinking of love.
