fly yourself straight into me.
and i don’t like it.
not one birdie bit.
i don’t understand you city pigeons.
you have wings. but you’re always
walking around. just
nitpicking the ground.
waiting for me to walk alongside.
so you can scurry and spat your
upward. and straight into my face.
alright, not actually my face. but
shoulders, yes. and my back. eww.
three times now.
and i don’t like you, pigeon.
i think you are gross. and
i want to step on your claw.
until last night. i went to
the holiday craft market
in astor place.
and there i saw you. wearing
new gingham colors. all coordinating
yourself with quilted patterns. and
i don’t know,
seeing you like that softened me.
i lost some of my hos and
calmed some of my tility.
and i thought
you city pigeons just might know how to chirpsing
i just wish you would fly yourself higher
than my face.
now, fellow manhattanites:
need some holiday cheer and craft ideas?
check out the brooklyen flea gifted market.
[where i saw the pretty pigeons.]
it’s well done. and the dj plays
over loud warehouse speakers.
my favorites were:
the moontree press recipe cards,
all the haptic lab quilts,
the domestic construction’s 2010 tea towel,
the bicycle paintings, the blue canary vintage jewelry,
berry street scenery bags, and clinton hill clocks.
and anything granny-like from the tincan trading post.
oh, and also. the woman near the front entrance
with the old school film strips pressed into wooden frames.