I bury myself in multiple layers of clothing.

White jacket over white raincoat over white t-shirt over white lifevest.

The crowd can’t see me when I’m snuggled in all this fabric.

 

People ask me if I want to fly with them.

I reject all invitation and lock myself in my birdcage.

I don’t want to hurt myself. I don’t want to look like a fool.

 

Above me, the colorful birds soar.

I watch from my manmade cacoon.

No one is on beat, but they all dance nude and free.

 

“Look how far I’m flying!” they sing.

Mama birds and Papa birds clapped from the trees below.

“Bravo!” they yelled. “Look how far you’ve flown!”

 

I couldn’t spot my Mama and Papa.

They were probably watching from our tree.

The one they hoisted me up from a year ago.

 

“Go fly,” they told me.

And released me into the grand blue stage.

Now I just watch the other birds fly from my old cage. \

 

A fledgling fluttered past me.  

“If you’re not going to fly, why are you here?”

I unzipped my white jacket.

 

My heart crept its way up my esophagus

pounding harder every inch.

I ripped the layers of my armor.

 

With all my might

I leaped out.

Look! I’m naked!

A small flock cheered from the trees.

Tiny wings erupted from my spine.