improv

i closed my eyes, almost unintentionally

my fingers, not poised over the keyboard- they had begun the swift lateral movement moments and moments ago

but now they're kind of just like little tiny legs dancing across the whites and blacks, freely, really, i wasn't moving them!

my head, detached from the worries, the due dates, the strange eyes, the complies; from time.

ah, that felt good

"it's a northwestern crow"

i hear them singing their dreams

their lives

their creations

their role models

or even their narcissism

whereas i listen to the chirping sound of birds

who do i blame? hmm.. this one's a head scratcher

i'd have to say it's a close call between hope and self doubt