crows

I remember biking around thinking hard wishing it to be that the crows would look after me, would watch over me in an impotent birdly way.

Back then I was getting to college on a bike. I remember that fondly: the music I listened to then still brings back a salt tang of sweat, remembering wind on my face, rain on my glasses.

Sometimes you'd see they'd gotten their claws on someone's abandoned french fries in a parking lot. A potato feast.