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Description
She was stuttering
around, muttering over
different verses she once
penned on her boyfriend's
bare freckled back in the daisy
patch at the Park in
the middle of Life and
its metal plastic machines
that shine reflectively under
the Tired Sun -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.

She was pushing
and tucking her hair behind
her ears, starring at
her walking feet moving
to places they only knew,
Sad Mr. Pretty-Boyfriend
left her so quickly for
the Mechanical Princess,
Manufactured by Social,
Inc and Ltd. -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.

She was done licking
and tasting old tears
she was tearing away
after she took off all
her clothes to walk the
streets naked before
it was only true that
she was ignored and
no one cared about her
bare chest or plump butt
exposed, not no pimps
in their pimped out
rides, not no nude
photographers, not the
uppity pious cats on
5th Avenue, not no
horney teenage boys,
not no cops
stopped her either on
Flaw Blvd. -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.

She was stumbling
and fumbling her way
through those Birds,
Business suits, Wall St.,
Pop art-fully obsessed with
buying the latest from the
Trend, those Birds
cooing some obscure
avian talk, ignoring this
naked babe dazed about
this street -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.

She was looking
and searching for some
high spot so that these
birds could notice her,
Climbing that building before
she yelled at those
deaf Birds clucking this
avian talk -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.

She was falling
and speeding faster to
the ground, trying to make
her arms some kind of
wings like those
impenetrable cool Birds
before she hit that
earth hard, leaving her
long hair to cover her
splattered head, and
those Birds just walked
around her corpse
and it was all sort of
sad in the end -
  She just wanted
  to feed the Pigeons.
    But those Birds didn't
    want any of her Originality.