Wednesday, March 30, 2011

3015. REGARDING THE FITZGIBBONS

REGARDING THE
FITZGIBBONS

Outside in the wind, right where the pigeons were,
the dirt and debris was kicking up in funnels.
Through all this the birds stayed put - steadfast
in a posed resistance, feathers upturned, heads
unsettled. It appeared to be war, of a sort.
-
Never before had I aced the moment so well.
I felt for them as I decided for myself where
not to be. Life leaves little choice, yes, but even
less for the creatures of gutter and wall.
-
This was the gate of a simple hotel; citified
blindness, urban maladroitness, a doorman
with only an evil, small smirk. Even he,
I realized, was better able to withstand the
shiver and wind. Just past my eyes, well
beyond him, a few girls loitered within.
If a cash register were upon each of their
backs, their presence for business would
be no clearer. Outside, the pigeons
yet hunkered down for another blast.

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