In Love With His Poetry Brother

Gaius is pleased with the results of the bird call experiment.

He leans in towards baby B-B.

Well now, little fellow, says Gaius, when you hear an alarm call, you will know what to do.

Yeah, shit in my latte, mutters Sweezus. What'll I do with this coffee?

If you fear going bald, says Gaius, I would advise you to drink it.

Nonsense! says David. To drink it would give him the runs.

On the contrary, says Gaius. Bird dung is a well known remedy for the colic.

Not these days, says Vello. I'm surprised at you, Gaius. Would YOU drink it?

Certainly not, says Gaius. It's gone cold. And I must go home to write up the experiment. If any of you see Arthur, ask him to call me.

He heads for the door.

Leaving the bird? says Sweezus.

Yes, says Gaius. I have no need of him now. And he is perfectly capable of living independently.

Am I? says baby B-B. In that case....

Luckily Gaius has already walked through the door.

You TALKED! says Terence.

Course I did, says baby B-B. I'm at least four weeks old. And I can fly now. And I've travelled all over the world.

(He hasn't)

So have I, says Terence, sucking his finger.

(He has)

Have you got a splinter? asks baby B-B.

Yes, says Terence. I got it from your moustache.

Moustache? says baby B-B. Have I got one? What's it for?

Dancing, says Terence who once saw a black and white movie in which a tall man with a moustache was dancing.

Oh, says baby B-B.

Suddenly the world seems alien and cold.

Want to be my parrot? asks Terence. We can be brothers.

Arthur's my brother, says baby B-B.

You can have two brothers, says Terence. And I'm more reliable. Arthur's a poet.

I'm a poet, says baby B-B.

So am I, says Terence. We can be poetry brothers. You go first.

the world seems cold and alien (says baby B-B)
because I found out
that my moustache is for dancing
which is something
sparks do
when they're escaping
after burning the marshmallow

That's good, says Terence. Now me:

if you die now
I won't have a parrot
so don't die now
you are my fourth parrot
the first one was a pigeon
it died
the second one was a balloon
it shrivelled
the third one was a crane
passing the tower of loneliness
if you die now
I won't have a parrot
so don't die now.

I won't, says baby B-B, who has fallen in love with his poetry brother.