Black Bird Singing In The Dead Of Night

What would happen if Andres Sobaco
alias el Numbnuts was a blackbird
stuck in the barrio like the rest of us
eating pebbles (ah, a stoneaterrean)
and forsaking dragonflies and earthworms
after a dirty barrio rain
you know the kind of rain
I'm talking about
oily and hanging over the streets
that haven't been paved since 1960
and el Numbnuts flaps
his dark dark wings
you'd think night had indeed descended
out of nowhere and caught you
by surprise indisposed indiscreet
cheating on your wife
with your wife's underage niece
just then el Numbnuts flies off
to the neighbor's rotting chinaberry tree
you see him arching his back to poop