A Walk Among Pigeons

I know these pigeons. They were beggars

in another life. I may have

been among them once,

but then I fell in love, and

when that ended,

my spirit floated free.

 

And I became, though

somewhat battered and

bedraggled and damaged,

I became a human

among them.

 

Still a beggar, you

understand. Unable to quit

chasing after the others.

Unable to put in the effort

to fly, if there was the least

hope for food on the ground,

any crumb, or spit-out wad

of gum.

 

And yes, I may have

admired, once or twice,

my own spitting image in a

shiny hubcap.

Still, I insist,

I was a human among them,

and my spirit floated free.