There was the smallest, prettiest bird that flew
by my window during my attempt to write
that I ran down from my apartment to hail
a Taxi. This was not an excuse to get out of work, I lied
to myself as we rolled up to a stop sign
and I looked up at the sky turning dark.

My mind had also turned quite dark,
just as the sky, and as my mind flew
alongside the bird I thought this must be a sign
that I was finally, once again, able to write.
But of course, that was one big lie
and I left the Taxi I had previously hailed.

Looking at the ground, I noticed tiny pieces of hail
accumulating quickly on the ominously dark
streets of the city. I must go home and lie
down, for my mind was getting too far away, flying
at a pace I didn’t know existed. But instead, I wrote
poem after poem in a nearby shop, with no sign

of me stopping any time soon. The dilapidated sign
told me this was a pizza shop. I hailed
my slice as the best in the land, which lead me to writing
a poem about this cheesy delight bringing light to a dark
and depressing world. In the middle of this story a fly
buzzed in my face and landed on my food. I lied

to the owners, saying I was full, but truthfully a fly lying
down on what would travel to my stomach would lead to signs
of a stomach virus. Time had flown
since my departure. I hurried home, passing men hailing
curses on each other with some of the darkest
faces I have ever seen or taken the time to write

about. However, there was no way to tell which was right
and which was telling one of the largest lies
of their life. I guess the truth will just be left in the dark
until the courts get involved and the judge irritably signs
his name to the outcome. Then he would be hailed
with questions until he left with a flourish of his robes. Or did he fly?

Finally I got home, as the darkness left the sky, with more written
than before. Still full of the need to do, I flew about the room, lye
in hand, as I cleaned the sign on the wall and waited for the end of the hailstorm.