Bohemian Waxwing '80s drunks struggling to stay afloat in a rowan berry sea. The Pokémon Pidgeot inspired by their steely-eyed look, surely? Its trill call, sharp and descending as a toy laser gun, enough to keep the haters at bay, trap them in a magic ball. Look how the peach bellini sunset aims to impress the bird; a rivalry to last generations. Condensation Daily floods on my windowsill. Sometimes, the cold etches a Richter scale of mountains on the bedroom windows. Other times: banshee tears, Jack Frost's melting fingers. I swear I see a child making faces on the glass, leave behind pigeon feathers bent into boats. TV aerials ponder their existence Pinned on roofs like Victorian insects, their wireframe dragonfly bodies hard to ignore. Morse code bones absorb whatever the sky empties from its pockets: glass eye ha...