it was summer and an august sun struck
the picture window in a room i once had.
i lay there, cheek resting on the sil.
my hair drapped and sticking in sweaty locks
to my brow.

i always sweat in summer.

i saw a humming bird.
right outside that picture window
its wings did not exist, at least not for
me to see. and its tongue dangled into a
in a bed outside that picture window.

it floated seemingly smiling
just as i did or have done
and floated just an inch away from my face,
with only that picture window
to keep us from eachother's
universes.

and i watched just as a crow does
and waited for the bird to float away
on wings that could never be seen.
not in my universe.