Intruder thinks he’s a hero, intruder thinks oh look, poor little feathered fool, cramped up like that, can’t fan wings, just peckity-peck and circle, day and night, watch family around the table nit-pick, watch empty table with crumbs, shouting aren’t I a pretty parakeet! into the void, watch window, watch housefly, intruder thinks poor little bird probably wishes he was a housefly (I do not), out the window to the great unflown, fly bird, search for meaning in all this murk, make feathered friends, feathered fuck chums, babies and beyond, birds are meant for flying, that’s what it says on the egg, and I nip him, bare-brained intruder, I bleed him, drippity-drip goes his finger which can’t lift the golden hook out of its golden circle anymore, but intruder is mistaken, intruder is fuming for having lost money on the FTSE 100 due to unsound advice from the capitalist who lives here, so intruder seeks revenge via bird liberation, but intruder doesn’t know I get mung beans at 8am, chickpeas and cuttlefish at 4.30pm, pellets on tap, that I get squiggles of mealworms when my push for holding shares across different countries to diversify our portfolio and reduce risks bears its fruit, intruder doesn’t know I love squiggles, how they shoot up and skydive and peter out, how much I admire their dependable distribution yield, he doesn’t know at night my bars are bar charts.