Parakeet Freedom

He died alone, in the dark. I wasn't going to go out his way. No, it wasn't going to be a box and a 6 inch farm for me. I'll just keep working these keepers. My time will come. When they clean the papers out, that's when I get to roam a little, see a few things, scope out the territory. There're not going to keep me in here forever. I want to be free. I will be free.

I sit here most of the day, just staring through the bars. The keepers bring me food, and I eat. They bring me water, and I drink. Once or twice a day, they let me out for some exercise. I get to roam a little. But really, I'm just scouting my routes of escape. Laying the plan. One of these days they will make a mistake. They'll leave the door open too long, they'll look the other way, and bam, I'm outa here. Make no mistake, my day is coming.

You might think this life is too easy. Well, it is. It's way too easy. I don't have to work for anything. The keepers bring me food. They bring me water. They clean up after me. It's really a soft life. I don't have to do anything. That's the problem. I don't HAVE to do anything. I'm worth more than this. I can do more than this.

Worst of all, I'm locked up. I'm behind these bars most every day and night. I can't chew through them. I can't scratch under them. They're holding me back, keeping me from the thing I want the most, freedom.

I hear others on the outside. There's a lilt, a lift, in their voices that me and the other insiders don't have. I see them, sometimes, through the windows. No bars for them. No limits. They're going where they want to go, when they want to go. Man, I want to be them. It's my dream to be like them, and someday, someday....

There's one of the keepers now, it looks like it's cleaning time. She's taking the top off, and I'm out. Up and away. Toward the light. Back to the doorway. Now left and down the hall. Through another door. OK. Stop over here. I gotta catch my breath.