Frank C Modica is a retired public school teacher. He taught students with special needs for 34 years. Since his retirement he volunteers with a number of arts and social service organizations in his community. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bluepepper, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Mad Swirl, Crab Fat Literary Magazine, and The Tishman Review.
What I thought was an American bald eagle
ranging far and wide over amber waves of grain
was in reality a turkey vulture
flying long, lazy gyrations, hunting for roadkill.
And what I thought was a rattlesnake
curled up on the side of the road, waiting to ambush me,
was a windblown jacket wrapped
around a yield sign, broken by winds and rain.
And when I thought
I saw a Harley Davidson motorcycle
parked at the local strip mall
all gleaming chrome, I glimpsed
a bicycle spray-painted white,
chained to a street light,
remembering a dead cyclist.
And when I thought I felt
the pulse of my newborn grandchild
against my chest
it was my cell phone
vibrating a Robo call.