Micro-fiction
The Eagle on my Outdoor AC Unit
The eagle, on my outdoor AC unit.
Not quite majestic, not anymore.
Dusted and ruffled by the yellow city air, the smog.
Flying over and between the sooty, concrete buildings that are its substitutes
For lofty, ancient mountains,
The dish antennas filling in for the majestic peaks that poke through the clouds.
The eagle, standing with its talons on my outdoor AC unit.
It’s talons murky with the liquid refuse of the city
It’s feathers marked by the signature air pollution
Bright eyes, sprightly neck spinning, twisting, turning left and right.
A king among the dregs, the high emperor of a city full of scavenger birds
A distant cousin, and perhaps not too removed from the pride
Of the majestic eagles that soar through brilliant, unmarked skies.
The eagle, on my outdoor AC unit
Looks left to right,
And flies away before I can get my glasses and see it closely.
