Wednesday, May the 19th, 2004
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Ho! for cormorants! Ho! for terns! These are the words the janitor learns. These are the words put into his gob by his docent, who's a slob. The docent packs his maw with words: corncrakes, shrikes, and other birds. The janitor dusts the docent's head, ridding the beetles and crumbs of bread and scraps of yarn and other orts, for grooming's not in the docent's thoughts. He only ever thinks of birds, teaching over a thousand words for creatures that have beaks and wings. He doesn't know about other things. He doesn't know the janitor's name. And nor do I. And that's a shame.