click, click.

with each click, one bird became nothing

in the sky.

my morning was a morning -
it started with breakfast,
a space seen through hotel blinds,
in which there flew too many birds.

so click.
a word we underlined in pencil
and wrote “onomatopoeia” in the margin.

a cheap trick.
i broke the stress relief thing
over my keyboard -
i spent some time vacumming up sawdust
between the “Qwerty”,

“from the French”,
meaning ”A small water creature”,
so small it cannot breathe.

i hummed the only song that
i forgot to put on my ipod,
went to another meeting,
and mourned the loss of a friend.