A Night spent at the Golgi apparatus
 

nights spent with a hawking troupe. nobody thought it was a good idea to go hawking on that december night- what did the birds have to gain? Not much, maybe a baby squirrel caught stranded in the moonlight. don't go hawking if the birds aren't into it.

we went anyway. there were walls there of mountains, of trees, even a wall of orange cabinets. nobody dared even try to explain the latter. the hawks flew though, they certainly did. in fact most of our time was spent trying to catch up to those chunks in the sky. they weren't hungry, they were just bored.

but we were tethered to them, reversed dependencies and collected neglect. for every cramped shuffle that one hawk made in the rookery, we walked fifty leagues.

'do you even know about your test tomorrow?'
can you be a bit more specific?
'uhh... you haven't read the material'
i'm hawking, friend. hawking. with hawks. they're birds.
'i know but what about gr-
silence fool, allow me this avian vacation, with the wind and the everything else you don't even know how schooled that class already is.
now look what've you done, i was in the middle of a no don't chew that you'll choke the damn birds didn't even have blinders.

and now i have to start all over, someone set me up, let's take a walk down the hallowed scope

well that was a really bad idea.