Deletes her number...
Misses her...
Downloads that song...
And the bass-guitar at the beginning invites to memory, the scent of her conditioned hair.
When the lyrics reach the second line and verse?
Her number comes back to mind- jus' like that.  
So he writes it down, saves it back to his phone.
And now...
He remembers she said; "You'll think of me"
-before the door slammed...

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood

“I’m sad.”
“Why?”
“She gets more likes on Instagram than I do.”

“I’m happy.”
“Why?”
“I have a bed to sleep on.”

“I’m sad.”
“Why?”
“My parents won’t buy me a car.”

“I’m happy.”
“Why?”
“I have food today.”