bird radio

i think we should start packing our bags.
on the television they're talking
about war like it's candy. i turn on the radio
& all there is are blue jays yelling about the seed.
they say, "all we are is jupiter to you, aren't we?"
i've never run far enough away but that's 
what it means to live in the united states.
it's a labyrinth in a labyrinth. sometimes 
you will pull over on the side of the road
& your father will pull over too. you didn't know
he was following you. i know to pack light.
just the telephones & maybe the good knife.
clothes are everywhere. in little bond fires
on the side of the road. we change the radio
to a station of loons. it is calming the way
they speak like fog. like a breath that
consumes you in the morning dark.
i put a dream in the microwave & it comes out
covered in ants. i have enough sugar 
but not enough anything else. i used to think
we had enough heart to tend a fig tree. 
i will spare you a metaphor about the wasps.
if you don't know what i'm talking about,
please google it. but the fruit was always
just a waiting bell. the delivery person
asking to come inside, saying,
"i do not want to run anymore." 
we let them crash on the sofa but quickly
they become a happy meal. you take
what you can get. fries with the state lines.
a jump rope used as a choker. 
my favorite station is the song birds of course.
most of the time when you flick it on,
they are too shy to sing but sometimes
when the world is just right, you will hear them
sing about a before time that does not exist.
tell me this will all fit in a suite case
when we have to run. the birds & all.
the trembling & all. i accidentally turn on crows.
cover my ears. they always speak the truth.
i do not want the truth tonight. 
i just want you to tell me there is a future
in which we do not have to escape.