billy says cardinals are titans, they hold up the weighted

world, it weighs very much billy says, and only cardinals,

and never any of the darkling birds sitting rough in the

thorny patches of briar outside the parking lots, but billy

doesn't say much about other things,

like the sort of car he drives, or what

he bought at the supermarket last evening,

billy only thinks about

mythology, how to give it a black mask

and set it about at the highest tree top,

so in quickened words it will roll a stone

down at his roof, and he will not have to

think much anymore, about how tall he is,

or whether or not there is still

a spare tire in the back of his truck. I don't know

where billy goes in the afternoons. I only

see him paling slightly as the clock tolls out

the torrential morning into an even swath

of sun, and small red birds come with

their windy intent