That Bird

That bird that lights on the balcony rail

before dawn: for all I care it could be

cursing me. It could be making snarky

comments about the garden, or broad-

casting any secrets I have to the world.

If this were all a simulation as Elon Musk

suggests it could be reciting a code

for a program to cause me to malfunction

during the day, to misplace my phone

or forget a meeting or tell my son he

made a mistake on his math homework

when in fact his answer was correct.

It could be summoning a murder wasp,

a suspicious mole, a letter from the IRS.

I don't care. Of course I'm aware this

is not about me. Ten thousand years ago,

when none of this was here, I would 

have heard the same thing. Ten thousand

years from now, when all of this is gone,

I would hear the same thing. That is all

I want: to hear that voice from beyond

time before it moves on to the next unit

and leaves me with these curtains.