The mockingbird is doing the car
alarm in full shrill, so hard
on my ears I cover them.
Then it does my dog who died
two years ago, my life
a steep slope down since then.

The bird knows all the begs and barks
in proper order. When I start
to cry it does too, but louder.

It imitates the sound I make
when I'm sorry so perfectly
I fall deep in my recliner.
It teaches me something I didn't know:
how pitiful I sound, how low.