Most Invasive Species

Last night’s
hazy dream, was
it a big rig or freight
train we almost crashed into? You

the wheel.
Me shouting your
name to turn it or do
whatever it is you drivers
do to

collisions. I
felt no motion sickness
the way I would awake inside
a large

a half million beating
wings undulating across the
dusk sky.

It’s not
their fault they’re here.
Blame the Shakespeare-obsessed
drug maker who released 60
of them

Central Park in
1890. And please
do not call that tiny saw-whet
owl found

that giant spruce
a stowaway. It was
her home before it was chopped down,
tossed on

a truck
to become the
Rockefeller Center
Xmas tree. Refugee is more
like it.

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