On the George Washington Bird Project: Angry Gray Skies and Large Flocks Edition

15Nov08

In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with birds.

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Some mornings the pigeons arrive en masse and circle the rooftops over Washington Heights.

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One minute the sky will be blank, and the next it will be filled with birds — somehow they move as a single entity — careening like a speed boat on a wide arc across the water.

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The bridge watches this silent and passive but monumental, like a god.

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The birds seem frantic, endlessly searching for something they will never find.

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Except for this one, perhaps, who flies alone across the angry sky.

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