I always remember the crows, not the pigeons. Not the rats, but the demons. They always huddled down at the end of my block. All on the same green grass, rummaging and stomping like the daylight shadows they were. With fierce beaks. And eyes you could only see if you squinted. All huddled. And they'd stop when I'd stop and their beaks followed as I passed by. All seven of them.
But I'd only think on it for the second it was before I had to climb the hill. And then I was climbing, and climbing on a bicycle is something lovely to only think about in moment. Swinging the bars left and right. Sitting in the air. It was a slow steady fly. Like a goose's pace. With heavy swings and long glides. To the top by the on-ramp and down the hill to Centinela.
And across the bridge, and onto the path by Ballona Creek. Up at the top of a concrete grade. There's an encouraging amount of plant life on the shore (not too encouraging seeing as it's trying to grow through concrete, but at least it's trying). And it tries to an abrupt point at where the water, I'm guessing, becomes too salty. Or too polluted. It's a bit sad. But we fly by and forget. We see the pelicans more clearly now with the banks devoid of foliage. And the herons as well. Taking passes at the calm green waters. There's just a slight ebb and flow from the tides. Tides fruitful in fishy food I presume, because everyone's having a ball. Even the fish jump in groups as the birds dive shallow and skim the water.
For a few strokes I pace one of the pelicans. His eye is easier to see than the crows. A bit happier-looking too. But the crow's is more poignant. More to the point, and those black orbs cut deep whenever they're around. There's something strange about looking into the eyes of another animal and, for a moment, to think they're looking back at me. And I wonder what they see. Instinctually. There's a smile. Maybe a grin. A wide grin on a long pelican's beak. It's a funny picture, and it carries me to work with no other thought than the music playing in my ears. And the seagulls sailing v's ahead of me. It's going to be a good morning.
