It wasn’t a conspiracy.
Hers had been the shop
he’d come upon in his urgency
to know, and she had known.
When the third syllable had
dropped he had waited for another
word, but none had come.
He shifted, hesitated,
wanting her to catch herself,
to take it back, wait, you know,
there is one just like that,
yes, let me think,
it’s called…
The animals had crunched their seeds
audibly, and stared.
The parrot turned away –
looked out the window.
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