we pigeons never need to travel
after all we’ve got it made –
an infinite pile of food to eat
& tourists galore to feed it to us
do not feed the tourists for our
appetites depend on theirs – & once
the feeding stops we know that that
way leads to oblivion … or worse
to fights amongst ourselves & that
predictable (horrible) cannibalism
waiters waitresses chefs & cooks
discourage your diners from eating
here – for once they spend their
money there is little left to buy
us seed – we flood piazzas like
the bubonic plague & fill the air
like swarms of bees – we’d crack
our brethrens’ eggs if that was
all that we had left to eat – we’d
rip the feathers from each other
eat our own shit our brains & our
lungs – & then gorge ourselves on
our own diseases until every street
had been eaten clean – so do not
feed the tourists for we like our
humans fresh (not to mention lean