I study a red tanager as she collides
with my plate glass window. Constantly
she gives up, sweeps

away, then returns. Thunk,
thunk on the glass & that same
sudden impact at the end with no

learning. She always bounces
back & cluelessly
returns. I imagine what

she sees through the glass—piles
of books, stacks
of mismatched plates, half

cup of V-8. Everyone
but me has taken off
for the day & the tanager

keeps reappearing. What
of mine does she want? The dying
rose in the Pepsi-bottle

vase, the coffee lingering
in a cracked mug, the book
wide open on the console?