Do you have a favorite bird?

She’ll ask

And suddenly you don’t know what a bird is so you’ll say 

Penguins

And she’ll ask 

What’s your favorite airborne bird?

So you’ll ask for her’s

And she’ll say 

Robins

So you ask

Why?

And she’ll say

I watched one nest outside my window once when I was nine

The way it laid its home next to mine, ever the chippy neighbor

It puked in its child’s mouth and called it love, 

All my mother shoved down my throat was soap

Their pink downs became orange and grayish

And I watched them for hours some days, 

The other days I’d read everybit I could on them

Did you know the lifespan of a robin is around the same length of a human relationship?

She’ll ask

No, I didn’t know that

You’ll say

And one day when I went to check on the nest, they had begun to fly away,

Kicked out of their home. Brood parasitism is the term. 

But when I looked down, below the nest, a fledgling.

It’s orange and grayish all over my porch. It’s brothers and sisters never came back.

And it’s mother moved out. My dad scraped it from the concrete.

So what’s your favorite bird

She’ll ask again

And you didn’t have one before, but now you say,

Robins