Pigeons

The mornings I do not go to work,

Time slows down. Hungover thoughts

Dawdle in memory. I wonder, about the

Pigeons out side my window-

When do they earn their food? What else

Assails them? Do they not get bored

Of fluttering about, and cooing on the window

All the time?

I wonder if they ask similar questions

About me. Who is this man? What

Does he do with his life? Running about,

Does he not get bored, of staying in the same place?

Most probably, though,

They just ignore me.