Pigeon of Palisades

Hey Pigeon of Palisades!

You and I are partners.

When I toss trash over my shoulder in search of a meal

You clean up after me.

When the sun disappears,

You coo me to sleep from the top of the Calvin Klein billboard on Sunset.

We make a good team, you and me.

You are not quite a bird.

I am not quite a man.

At least in their eyes.

                                                                     

Hey Pigeon of Palisades!

You can fly, can’t you?

I mainly see you hopping and wobbling, but I bet you can.

Yeah, you can fly just as surely as I can speak.

And yet I am never heard 

and you never soar.

My voice is useless - except to beg for change from tourists

Who never look me in the eyes

or stop to watch you fly.

Hey Pigeon of Palisades!

Do you belong here?

Do you wish you were somewhere else?

I am not welcome here either.

But here we are!

“Shoo!” They say to you.

“Get outta here!” They say to me.

So we move, but not far.

After all, where are we to go?

Hey Pigeon of Palisades!

You know they call you “dirty bird" right?

They call me worse, my friend.

They call me nothing.

I have no name.

They prefer it that way.

Yeah, I guess you could call me "dirty nothing." 

We are dirty

you and me--

Forgotten,

Invisible,

Scavengers.

We are the

Pigeons of Palisades.

Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2013. Use with permission only.
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