This is the Standard

We were at the top of the Standard downtown, downtown- on the roof. Sharing a triplet of mini cheeseburgers and drinking mint mojitos out of plastic cups. Billy was talking about how i knew too much about weed, more than a good Christian girl should know, and that he thought i was a secret drug lordess- growing a field of it somewhere in Thailand, and we were sitting in the middle of the 5th plague of Egypt.

Those birds swarmed the sky like they were locusts. Millions of black birds, different shapes and sizes but all black. As if every bird in LA came to rally around the columns of business and commerce.

"I think they are lost!" Carissa suggested, "Trapped by the sky scrapers!"

Circling and circling in a giant silver spiral like spawning sardines. Whipping, whirling, and chirping. Our necks started to hurt from the weight of our heads facing the Aves apocalypse. The feathered rapture, it was the inverse of the starry night sky- black on white. It was lovely, bewitching. Carissa said, "you guys, this is a miracle, and we are never going to forget this"