Park bench, sandwiches

Park bench, sandwiches
You began feeding a pigeon
A sound like the Holy Spirit descended
A flock of browns, creams and greys
They tussle, gulp down crusts
I am for a poor footless stumpy one
Thin and bedraggled
It totters along on its stumps
Overtaken by the scrum
It dives under their legs
Sad skeletal neck thrust out
It flops beneath their bodies
I persist and it gets fed
I grab at a plump one
That pigeon look of amusement
I sense you beside me
Lost in thought
I feel runny nosed, boyish, unromantic
The child in me suspended in formaldehyde
We struggle out of ourselves
To find romance
Like blind chicks from an egg

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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