This morning and beyond

This morning I woke up

woke up, but there weren't birds chirping at dawn, just gulls screaming horribly

this morning, like every morning

this dawn, like every dawn.

Unlike others, my mornings haven't birds, but enormous, black winged and deformed fowls, screaming at the heavy clouds passing by an oblong sky.

Their eyes have the desperate stare of the vertigo in their venous retinas

because they observe this town from their cold heights, ready to fly rampant, brusquely and nowhere

like harpies with stone hearts.

This morning.

Then, I realized that I always was surrounded by monsters.

Later, on the streets, I saw two of them crossing a street, walking on their biped repugnance

fowls that, after centuries, forgot their primeval nature, marine and free, and got idiotized in their relationship with the human, walking among the cars of this port-town, with their essence adulterated by the human environment, searching in the trash of the man, living on their roofs

defiled, infected, polluted, pathetically prostituted in the society of the man

which is not my society, though it is.

If they want it so much, I gift this society of the man to them

Gifted, and perfectly wrapped: it's all theirs, I don't want it.

I'm a man, not a gull, and I don't want it.

A while later, and for some ridiculous reason, probably related to my nostalgic nature, I just envisioned this town, many years in a future, a future when I won't be here.

And I envisioned it with the same sea gulls walking lazy and clumsily on the same tortuous lanes

with the same stupid movement of their big bodies as they walked, surely, before Celts and Romans were here, here; here.

Emitting the same stupid and horrible noises, beholding everything with their same venous eyes, living their same useless, selfish and stupid lives.

Surrounded by a sepia haze I envisioned this town, the town of the flying dogs, as if I were seeing photographs

a distant beholder come from a past, darkly, observing, and not observed

a distant beholder come from the past, darkly, an observer who is not here.

Just nowhere.