to have achieved the time/space immunity
of a pigeon-- rafter & tasty-cake wrapper born-- 
dove dropped down the chimney. i want my
feathers grey to keep the dust of all us
travelers. run your hands up my thighs like
the gritty sidewalk outside of port authority 
where the wheels of my suitcase
got tangled in shoe lace & electrical wire.
walk two blocks to your apartment where i 
ask you why you lock up your bike. 
coal under my tongue i come to ask the pigeons
about the origins of human language-- they know
us better than ourselves. i read they 
were the first domesticated bird but i don't
believe that. we cohabitate the same body
of trouble-nurturing & tenement window. 
do they, then, share the blame for the genocides?
they highway-blood & demolition sites? close behind conquer. 
the common language between us all is a bird.
in paris & new york & marid & west virginia feed mills 
& the underside of the bridge we we sleep. what name
do we give those who watch another creature's
history unfold? mud-scholar, a scribe of talon
& fingernail grime. up riverside park you told
me you hate pigeons as a few rooted through the
recycling bin on a oddly warm day in december.
christmas was coming like fever. i dis-trusted
you after that. sleeping that night i imagined your
body a great obelisk. i follow the pigeons,
un-making whatever home i held with you.