At least

at least twenty-six eagles

at least

I told her.

it had been at the dump, where we unloaded disgusting smelly-cat bags

full of the Walker's junk

and placed them on a conveyer belt

touched a sweater or two in the salvage area and joked about the tennis shoes and the used type writer that Sheraya was fiddling with.

and I saw at least twenty-six eagles perched on the trash outside

and in the tall anorexic unclothed trees on the right

Alaska, this is Alaska.

Back to the Walkers, R took out her grumpiness over a 

two layered cake that she stuck in the oven that rose funny in the middle because of the pressure or something

and a cup of vanilla bengal chai tea

a minor discussion on kissing and weddings next to me on the couch

then red came in with bubbles under her skin

(she had been planning the birthday for Jonathan)

and was running errands [if we wanted to go!]

down main street toward the bay where the cults all roam

where the Russians are born

into the gear shed, try on an xtra tuff (mine are coolest)

run to KayBay for a bag a' beans

checked for that sold bag in homer jeans

and home to hang up streamers

that morning red had made crepes that she couldnt eat (shes gluten,dairy,coffee free)

with lemon-something frosting and a raging pot of coffee 

for her man who she'd kissed in the kitchen and sent off for a good birthday at work