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Summer Of The Sparrow “Remember the sparrows, their chicks-- the weight, the heaviness hung on a thin piece of skin, as though gravity was about to pull their huge heads off. Chingados hermano, why did we kill them. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.” “Ismael,” I whispered, “it was you who killed them.” My words fluttered in the treetops, fled across the sky with Raven, with Sparrow, rose above the clouds and vanished into space. “All the flies in the universe came,” he said. “It was as though the cosmos was a billion trillion dark flies and they collapsed on his head. He was a fucking black hole sucking in the light until all that was left was a black mass of pinche flies -- house flies horse flies gad flies zebra flies fucking dragon shit flies,” he chuckled. Snake slithered up my thigh coiled around my balls and squeezed then raised his head and struck my heart. “Why bro’,” he asked. “Why did we do it?” I simply shrugged. “Hermano, I was having a hell of a fuck dream. I was on a river bank, my dick stuck in a mud hole. There I was -- Coyote -- fucking Mother Earth, my bushy tail frantically wagging. Shit, I started laughing. I laughed so hard I farted thunder, shot lightening out my ass and lit up the Sky -- that’s when I woke, that’s when I heard them, that’s when I smelled it.” There was a strange poison in my veins and I silently prayed, brother Snake leave, but his fangs were deep in my heart and my words were dead. “It came from everywhere,” he continued. “It came from Mother Earth. I stumbled towards the barn. Don’t know if I walked like a stork cuz of fear or cuz of mota. Hermano, he was missing for three days. All this time he was in his Chevy truck behind the goddamned barn, but before, we would always find him with his acordion and Lonestars, and mom and dad would ground him for a week, but he’d be in his room sniffing glue -- that little fuck.” There was a pause then he said, “Hermano, what we did -- It was wrong.” I wanted to scream -- Ismael, it was you who killed them; but Instead, I just nodded. “Bro,’ it was a black mass -- weight, heaviness, hanging on a sparrow’s neck, All the flies in creation were there, light was squeezed to the other side, and his huge, dark head dangled from the window. I thought any second it would be nothingness.” A breeze fanned the windmill, the shaft clanked, from the brushes a bobwhite exploded and shredded space. “Why did we do it bro.’ We kept count until we lost track. We hated those little fuckers -- remember?” Snake, release me, I demanded, but I had no authority over him, and there were no words only evening light and the song of the Sparrow.
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