So we might understand each other better,I’ve given up on trying to listen for birdsin the morning. But, I am never without them.The internet is a pocket forest: a green parrotnamed Tico who harmonizes in soaring vibratoto classic rock songs, woolen baby emperor penguinswith prehistoric feet, potoo birds whose fluty songshaunt even after their diamond mouths close,a raven named Fable who inflates her blue-black headfeathers before she declares practiced “Mwahs!”in the same tone as her keeper, and a cockatielwho sings an Apple ringtone (you know the one)when it’s upset. How incredible it is that they allperch together. How to tell you: It’s been years sinceI’ve wanted to die, but I still don’t understand whysometimes it feels so difficult to brush my teeth,start my day, end my day. Why I always miss you,but sometimes I can’t even think of you. Why, whenwe are separated, when my mind is difficult,birds are easy. Today, after watching ten videosof hummingbirds before noon, I feel light enough to pushoff my comforter’s irresistible smother and flit aroundthe house. I want the whir of a sequined green body,red-adoring eyes, and narrow tongue coiling into skull,as much as I want the steady sleep-twitch of yourwarm body pressed against me. I’m passing this ideato you: One day, maybe we could plant zinniasand cardinal flowers in a ruby cluster and waitfor hummingbirds to unfurl and flick their tonguesinto an easy sweetness. We could fill two glasseswith cold water and put them on the nightstand.We could watch together, even on a palm-sized screen—floating swans, a white, crested pet pigeon waddlingherself to bed, sprinting ostriches, a parakeet fatherinsistently squawking, “iloveyoubabies gonnafeedthebabies.”