Grey Birds, Sky Likewise
Perpetual chalk swaddles the city.
During my smoke break I bore witness
to one pigeon using another as trampoline,
jumping atop and accordioning the fellow
bird into the pavement.
What to make of this fowl omen?
The rotund, sickly grounded animal,
mounted repeatedly, bulge ballooning
eyes round enough to eat a child.
Nineteen hours later I plopped back
into unemployment. Farewell to that mocking
museum beneath the Green Line, farwell fickle
loop, your pallor storms and Athenian libraries.
I hope someone thought to chalk a halo
about that blighted bird.
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