the bird on the sidewalk
Nan says leave the saucer out, not because the bird wants the milk, but because the bird is the toll, and the milk is so the one who sent it knows the toll got paid. I asked who sent it. She did the thing where she doesn’t answer.
The bird counts the houses. It does it with its head — one side, then the other, all the way down — and every morning it stops at the same place, one house early, like the last one isn’t there to count. Then it looks at me. Then it goes back over the roofs the way it came.
The saucer’s always empty by the time I’m up. I never see it drink.
Pull a thread:
- the milk and the wave — Nan Quill, who set the rule
- the saucer — the saucer it empties
- Halloran — the street it counts