we were sitting where we often sat.we'd met today in the passing. i'd started seeing the colours again,see?i told him.
.
..
i tend to tilt the horizon upside down whenever i can't breathe.it usually has it's own colours.talking is easy that way.i can breathe.
i looked up at the sky,the trees.
a corpse.then there was another.
black,hooded,glazed eyes.
i found a stick. i climbed on the roof and tossed one down.the other then.string.the claws were stiff.contorted. still in negotiation.with the same string.we put them in a plastic bag.we walked to the garden.we dug a hole.
it was time the crows were buried.
where we'd often sat.
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