Ed Taylor: “Misocainea”

(“Misocainea”—from the Greek: hatred of anything new)

And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconies, till they some of them burned their wings and fell down.

Diary of Samuel Pepys, September 2, 1666, the day of the Great Fire of London

            The cat’s diet, coffee and butterflies.  Now the animal startles at her heartbeats.  On the porch the quartet watches the cat knot.  They drink tea and whiskey.  They practice, knitting bands of static.  They call it friendship, wear it like protection. 

            Things get trapped and stuck.  Sun rattles into its hole.  Bingo.  Beach Boys on the radio, fading.  Car wheels like roulette.  The quartet bets and keeps playing, while it gets blurry outside.  Taking no chances, the music gets sinister.  Loud.  No one hears the wire tightening.  The four loosen their collars.