of Babette Deutsch's "Urban Pastoral"
Riffing off of the line, "The walks are for pigeons and ladies"
Today is the Lord's day and not
the today I want. I want the man
beside me to stop feeding bread
to the pigeons. Now the ground
looks sloppy, an uneven slate
of affairs. Their noises lack
charm, adds panic to the women
with children, fasten tight in a stroller.
From this bench, I see everything
in the park. The homeless asleep
with the maggots on a few wood
rotted picnic tables, tossed back
toward the throat of the park.
The kids on swings, their faces
wear a first experience high.
An old couple dressed like Sunday
church, more aware of the other
than feeling alive. Yet I am
in the company of pigeons. What
a careless life, a pigeon's. I want
days like that, but todays are the Lord's.
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