Outside my window, the chestnut brown canary laughed as the ruby throated sparrow cried. I asked why. The chestnut brown sparrow appeared through autumn-faded maple leaves. "On the expressway to nothing is far too crowded," he said.

I thought nothing of this canary's ability to speak.

"Let me tell you of a place where trouble on the run twists the night away."

I pondered this avian logic. I wanted to say something. I had no answers. I forgot all the questions. Thursdays and Saturdays were Monday's and Wednesdays. I looked around my office. I wasn't there. I wasn't here.

"My man, don't I know it," the bird said.

I wanted to understand.

"The revolution won't be televised."

I nodded.

The chestnut brown canary flitted from the maple tree to my windowsill. "You know, I haven't been there, yet she knows where I've been. My pockets are full with nothing after mistakes made wait to be made."

"You must read me, " I said.

 "The news today is yesterday's story. Travelling through time I'm a passenger lost. Following the shadows of the skies, the figments confuse me in my eyes."

"So true," I said.

"So false," he said. "Don't you know my disguise is my armor, my boat anchored beneath the ocean rigging its sail while mute-angel voices call from the moon? "

"I hate to say it but I told you so." I felt free to brood out loud. "Blind faith gives me wide-open disbelief. Is the right place in the wrong time?"

"Listen, I've landed on the desert sand beneath as it drifted into snow," the chestnut brown canary said.

"Tell me more sweet banana."

"A young man's got nothing to say. Step back. What's meant to be won't be. Subtle aspects feature the trait of what I say. Listen to the darkness burning bright. Watch as early in the evening comes after dawn. Going backwards you return forward. I did before I done. Yes … the true holy became highs and lows within the final measure are immeasurable."

I leaned back in my chair.

The chestnut brown canary laughed. "Are you going to write about this?"

"All you are saying is what I'm saying."

"Well remember, I was born one night about twelve o'clock, ha-ha-ha. My father was around stickin' out his chest, hee-hee-hee — he said, "A-now, mama this boy, he gon fee' you a mess. Yeah! Yea-ha, ooh, uh-huh."

And from inside the maple tree, the ruby throated sparrow continued crying.