No matter how many times I tried washing them, they still wouldn’t become clean.
As I lifted the bucket to replace its graying water with fresher water, I looked up @ the white sky outside & saw the 1st crow o’ October perching on a power line.
I knew I’d never clean these books o’ all their typos, uncited quotes, irrelevant sources, & gibberish left by crabs sidestepping over keyboards.
But I knew that if I didn’t the crows wouldn’t be happy.
& when the crows aren’t happy, they’re hungry.
& when the crows are hungry, they eat people.
& being eaten isn’t fun.