"Wire Monkeys"

by Dom B.
2002.01.04

One day I saw a hawk perched in a parking garage, big as a small dog and mottled biege like sandstone, looking for pigeons to devour in flight. Gotta wonder about those pigeons. How many chemicals seep into them from the city air, from the cigarette butts, from various sundry contents of various forgotten dumpsters. How many PCB's, DDT's, how much mercury, amonnia, carbon monoxide, how much methyl ethyl death. Passed on to the hawk, to the hawk's children, to the hawk's children's children, and so on and so spaghetti-o's right down the drain pipe.

Dumb, dumb pigeons. So I go over to the hawk, I say to those steely eyes, that sharp beak and five foot wingspan, I say hey buddy you gotta watch what you eat. I say you, you are a metaphor for something, something I haven't put my finger on yet. The Hawk replies "Hey, man, you got a smoke on you?" And so on and so forth.

The other day I saw a penny heads up on a sidewalk. I walked on by. I don't pick up lucky pennies any more. Quarters, lucky and unlucky, I will pick up. People don't appreciate it when you try to pay for things with pennies. Lucky pennies don't work, because there's no such thing as luck.

A few weeks ago I met a self-proclaimed hobo in a bar. He had a hiking backpack and three-hundred dollar boots. I don't believe in hobos anymore.

A couple days ago I thought I was a realist. But then I figured out I was just an idealist in denial.

Maybe it's just human nature to hope the best for the world. Maybe it's just human nature to come up with crazy schemes for saving the world when you're all by yourself. Human nature, to have daydreams of being an artist or a writer or both or a national hero or a bright shining star in a sea of bright and shining stars.

Maybe it's human nature to be stronger than disappointment, more powerful than cynicism, faster than death.

I hope so.