wonder bread

she told me over
coffee that she saw
her life long therapist
the other day in
the park. in his long
black coat and top
hat. he was walking
in a slow wide circle
with pigeons crowded
around him as he
dropped small pieces
of white bread for
them to eat. more
and more flocked
around his black polished
boots as he dropped these
tid bits of food
from his educated
fingers and the pigeons
cooed, they fluttered
their dark wings,
they let him get closer,
trusting him a little
bit more with each
morsel of bread,
but not too close,
there was only so
far both he and them
could go with this
process, and at some
point they'd be on
their own, for better
or worse, and they'd
have to fly away and
bake their own bread.