Crows are my friends, ticklecrows
There are none out this morning, the engines
Have sway in the concrete streets outside
Crows that go ka ka ka
Crows that are spirits of darkness
Crows that have dripped from the night
And remained out to goof in the morning
To loot in the trashcans for morsels
And pick at the skeletons of skwirrels
To pick at the sqeletons of squirrels
Even though they've a truce, those two species