“So, my children, birds who can speak are cockatoo and parrot,” I faintly heard the teacher explained.
I suppose I was just falling asleep when your voice knocked my eardrums.
“WAKE UP, SLACKER!” you said, yelling.
I felt scratches on my scalp.
Then, you jumped and stood in front of me,
Staring at me with eyes that are darker than the nights.
I had never, in my life, seen a black bird that speaks like you.
All my life, some birds were scavengers of words:
taking rubbish words that were wasted everywhere and put them in a lullaby.
The rest just nodded plainly when they hear bullshit about changing the world,
Then they dream again about the seeds they usually peck.
Jogja, October 2, 2018