Being with Alec the first time awakened me to all sort of things, though our time was brief — the role of kink in my life, spirit in the everyday still being with me, myself as a woman and attractive to the right man or men.
And that I’ll always love to feed corvids.
Tonight I watched a flock of rooks in baggy feathered pantaloons scarfing up
the bread I broke with them, inhaling its chewy-sour scent before I scattered it
at their feet. I ate my half with mustard and enjoyed it just as much. I
thought I spotted you as I chewed, tall and ambling through the straggling
shoppers, but it was some other man. He smiled at me, and my smile in
return was real, but I didn’t say anything to him. The rooks rippled with a
rattle of wings but didn’t scatter as he passed, too much of their meal still
crumbled on the pavement for them to startle easily. I shared my cookie,
too — when it’s mine, it’s damn well not a biscuit, and I could have called
it a portfolio for all they’d have cared — rolled raisins on my tongue and
thought of them soaked in rum and stirred into spice cake my grandma
always snuck me a second slice of. I couldn’t buy another cookie to share
with the birds; the cafe was closed, the crew inside cleaning in the half-light
behind the sign inviting me back another time. In the dark it was easy to
imagine the rooks following me home in single file down the sidewalk,
that I wouldn’t be alone until morning after all.