Epistle. To: Wollstonecraft

It was like something out of Hitchcock almost if what happened weren't so literal. I was walking down the street minding my own business - right here I know you're skeptical - but that's how those movie lines get off the ground! - when a crow dive bombed me from a maple tree. A dozen other crows were up in the tree and making noise enough like some experimental sound band gearing up for a show. What emotions do crows have? Were they pissed off? Or just sonic? And what do you do if a crow hits you in the head? I kept thinking about the dumb guy at the gas station. In the movie. He's like totally unaware but that's his part. He's like huh and then drops the match and then blows up in a fireball. I should have had one of those new cop cameras mounted on my shoulder. Captures things like transgressions and assaults and drunk knuckleheads in real time all of which flails a point and helps with litigation down the road. But also on the underside of things happening there's a giving up of random indefinite space for the finite lens. If it's on film it has to be so, right? The courts of the future will hear your case on You Tube! Who would believe me? Who would believe that a crow tried to hit me in the head? And yelling at a crow was foolish. But I did it anyway. Because it felt like the right thing to do. I wonder if the shoulder cameras are tuned for the natural outbursts of R-rated language? You fucking crow! And after this potentially explosive You Tube incident, the other crows were up in the tree going on with the noise. As a metaphor if not overworked yea they were hanging on a limb and laughing at me or at least checking the film credits. At least the rains had stopped and the afternoon was there to be had if you wanted it in these flood stricken times. But it's been like that. Lately the days have been less than reliable than reading about them in the forecast. What good's a daily newspaper if the captions we're given can't even get the weather close? Yea it's a difficult science. But so are the fucking crows! I have a friend whose family has a farm deep in time in the Catskills. His cousins shoot crows the way someone else might pull weeds. And they've been doing it for centuries. Not that it's like that at all here. If I tried to shoot a crow I'd get the whole thing backwards and end up shooting myself. I have nothing against crows. I just don't want to be hit in the head by one. So I kept yelling at the crow. Trying maybe to reason with it. What is up? But I got no answer. Didn't seem to work. They kept on laughing. Maybe I should give my friend's cousins a shout and start a range war. Maybe if I had my shoulder mounted cop camera - attached on me like what a parrot (?) - I document this and place it somewhere in the halls of evidence against crows. And they don't fly off. And I stand there looking up for a while. Like they're trying to figure out if I'm related to Tippi Hedron...  Maybe sun. Maybe not. Maybe rain. Maybe not. Didn't this happen just like this last week? And so what you do is you wait around waiting for rain. Isn't it curious why we don't wait for sunlight? Because the way everyone talks it's the rain. That's the pause. A woman later at the park said oh this is just awful... a series of tough looking clouds moved in across the sky... thunder in contrasting light that sounds like a bad plan to be out in the open... but then nothing happens and the clouds are blown on and away... like some existential joke because you can see more clouds gathered up further away in posses of atmospheres and threats to become. Was it a question or not?  My response is to wear sunglasses all the time.