Running Pigeons

Running pigeons scoot away
As you close in
Nearby the truck raises its mast
The sky threatens rain
The air traffic grumbles overhead

Buildings change shape in this light
Shadows appear, contrasts too
That weren’t there pop out
Say, “Look at me instead of
Running pigeons.”

Keep your skin pricked up
For the wind that turns cold
& foreshadows rain
and the cloud burst ahead



Hop skip & jump through
The signs on the ground
Asleep, directing no one
Rusting in the dirt
Behind the Power Station
Run down abandoned, too,
Dilapidated, wide open
For flying pigeons to roost
& rear their hawk meals



Animated chatting, a sip of Joh
A drag on a super premium filter
With low tar low nicotine
and teeth yellowing carcinogens
Animated about chimney cleaning
About where to park on
These streets full of tolls
Spike heels & milk white legs
That woman in black skirt
and white blouse, pink sweater
is milling in the show
of the rain clouds

Who are you. Everyone
Wears a name tag
Like some futuristic
Science fiction film
We laughed at years ago
You must have your plastic
Without it you are nothing
You are nobody you can
Go no where with no one
Or live on the street
In the underground
Economy that the plastic
People pass – while
engaged & mumbling
into their wrist phones
“Come in, Dick Tracy.”

We learned
But the sun is out now
and the pigeons have hobbled
somewhere for grit and chow
& the time now here is over
Whoever you are

Copyright © 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.