The City Life

Pigeons 

In a parking garage—

I want to know each

And every name.


They'll never know mine 

And they don't care.


I'm just another shape

That moves in their way.

They wait for food scraps

But I have none to give.


What use am I?


They build nests in their 

Concrete home; bobbing

Their heads when cars


Speed by and more boring

Shapes emerge, unwilling

To pay them any mind.


They coo, strutting

Carelessly as strangers

Disturb the city life

They never asked for.