with pigeons, too smug
for their
own good,
fat and bold,
dressed
in their grey jackets
with flecks
of colors.
always walking about,
strutting,
if you want the truth,
rarely
flying.
look at me, they say
to the other birds.
i'm walking
here.
i'm not scared of anything.
i'm a pigeon.
the bread
they toss around
is mine.
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