Is there a bird upon my back? All non-chalant with feathers black? And in his eye that look of lacking any real wits? I've spoke to him not fewer than 8 or 9 occasions and tired to ascertain the thoughts that walnut brain of his has caught within its tiny gnashing gears that rather like him standing here but nothing seems to break through clear his tiny birdy fog. So though I shoo him when he's near doubtless he will reappear. He always has, he preservers. He's resolute, consumed, austere. But if one day I turned to rear and looked and he did not appear, pretty sure I'd shed a tear, and miss him.