As if the Birds Were in on the Secret
diary of a programmer 127
ha ha ha they are chirping
on the branches of autumn
with wind ruffling their hair
like the open window of a car
they watch us through
the windows of our flats
sitting in front of screens
with a glow on our faces
that is not from sunlight
with one wing pointing like a finger
and the other covering a chuckling beak
the canaries and the titmice and the sparrows
gesture and laugh to each other with charades
all the city birds mocking us
as our conversations with robots
grow deeper and more complex
as we get caught in the webs
of AI spiders hunting for bugs