The Bird Yellow

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Like looking at someone from a window. Like that feeling in your stomach when you take off (my seatbelt is fastened now). Like something you thought you forgot but comes back for an instant. A warm living room filled with cigarette smoke. You sit and wait. For some reason, you feel like a stranger and you feel overdressed. The sound of constant dripping in a dirty sink. The motor of a restaurant freezer. A thousand ants tap dancing or a room full of people typing. Greasy cathedrals. Within this rumbling, the thought of sunlight. An orange screen when you close your eyes. This is pink honey rain.