Fucking Bird

It was just an ordinary day. The usual turns and maneuvers to avoid the potholes as I ride my motorcyle home from work.

Nothing particularly memorable that day.

This was to be just another day; forgotten to the blur of monotonous daily life. Not too stressful a day. The weather was agreeable in downtown Houston. And riding a motorcyle never gets old.

I take a breath to enjoy the moment, the light turns green… and I crank the throttle.

Fucking bird.

How was I supposed to know you’d fly out of those bushes and straight into my headlight?

You gave me no time to react. I mean, I saw you. Flying, startled, probably by my revved up engine, trying to evade the danger the sound was warning you against.

You done fucked up, bird. You flew straight into the danger. You flew straight into me.

And I saw all of it. The futility of it all. I wouldn’t swerve into another lane, because I’m not stupid like that, and was pretty sure there was a car trying to catch up. I wasn’t gonna brake because behind me there was….

Feathers. All around. All I saw was a cloud of feathers behind me.

Fucking bird. I’m sorry bird.