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from Atlas Peripatetic 120 Is it true? No more phone booths? What should one expect— —the first telephone concern? —the home company? —the first lists? —the automatic dial? —the highest mark for good service? —a random gathering of people listening to stories about who lives in the great cities? —a more representative group lined up for protection from the elements or privacy? Coins or calling card, sitting at home looking at pictures of pay phones on the other side of the world. 140 Like it or not, these flocks of permanent residents of shore, some mornings all hope. They stay, these crows and seagulls from the rain and the urban origins of escape, of a boat, sorry until the day they fly. No story is true, the parrots, thousands of miles of thread, face new orders, find what home. We creatures, so far from places we carry far. Conures green with red spots, small patches of red, yellow spots, they have never flown. Roost and breed in one of the beach cities, spotted in valleys and counties, in cities flying low over freeways, coastal bluffs, let go or escaped and made home thrive, grown to the climate of tropical plants, eucalyptus and coral, in a tree the calls of green birds flying, the birds, the parrots. The day of the parrots and the radius of their roosting, groups of foraged miles, most afternoons they returned, four flowering trees all separated, the trees a cyclone. The parrots flew over grounds and sometimes landed in trees overlooking yards. In the trees, pink flowers, discarded petals on the sidewalk, the petals often falling beneath the tree, their meal, their bills, their perch, chattering, fighting, preening (caring). When the parrots return (mutual), one sound like a drill in response, in unison, in and out of the sun, watch and listen silent until the next sun wakes. Dawn wait, watch roof for the morning wake, sunrise up, stillness, mere minutes of sight, chatter in a swaying, soon parrots roost, circle the early sky. 409 different instances of “I”—by location general food advice for newcomers—the soup a bagel or a piece of fruit—the crepes the coffee—free food if you sit there long enough who cares—of early morning (slow—and the truck is popular) someone more familiar with the cuisine magic carpet—no matter what—fly by this city (eldest son) (youngest son) a bare minimum of ingredients (north) —few— a lot of bite (crisp) bitter rivalry dates back years—one old woman working alone—other staples old favorite—the man lives up to the name of modern language holy land on four wheels—a relatively short line—stand out from the slew—stood up to an hour long walk to recommend warmly not for the faint—a long line even in rain (surprise) |