There is a painful lack of
pigeons on the pavement
at this moment.
My entire being aches
for how they go out dancing
still wearing their office clothes
at 5:05pm –
pressed cuffs a-clangin’
against pointy shoes –
displaying smart grey suits or
black with fancy white stripes –
even dirt-colored birds
know how to groove &
shake it.
Wind-blown cartwheelin’ plastic bags
covered with colorful advertising
attempt to serve as substitutes for
supercool strolling sightseeing pigeons
on this colorless afternoon.
Then suddenly –
my rarely-flying friends
return in teams of 3
like our national police
on each corner near the metro,
wielding fat, private firearms I
feel like shockingly grabbing –
the element of surprise
in this patchwork neighborhood
where no one knows
what will happen next.
I thrive on the aliveness of wings!
One thought on ““He suffered, & he suffered, & he suffered – then on the seventh day, he took a break. Then, he suffered!” by David Leo Sirois”