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Jan 2014
As I sat upon the dock’s edge, idly skimming the questionably clean water with my toes, I closed my eyes and opened my ears to eavesdrop on the birds chattering across the fen.

Were they conspicuously cawing the sought after secrets of the universe in a foreign tongue, swapping stories of the skyway, boasting of their knowledge as they choked down half-drowned worms, brooding over the offensive punch line we call truth?

Or were they casually chirping how healthy the sun is for their plumage, teasing the hen for her aerial shortcomings, sharing seeds of sesame, and politely asking the woodpecker to stop his work, if only for a moment?

In my stasis of thought, a leech writhed to the water’s surface with intention, and rudely hooked onto my big toe without even asking first.
Written by
GQ  Binghamton
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