I found myself watching two grackles in the back parking lot pecking at a vomit stain they would take turns stopping and staring back at me with mistrust one grackle looked desperate the other looked bored the desperate one scraped his beak impatiently against the asphalt the bored one pecked softly at one spot after another, as if to say: One ought not expect too much, but one never knows if perhaps there is something worth tasting in this slightly fuzzy pink stain before it disappears into the sun... the bored bird glared at me the hardest I tried to smile back to tell him I agree when some burping diesel engine scared both birds away
