Have you ever heard
a parking lot bird
rejoice in the sun?
No, parking lot birds
don’t have much fun,
constantly busy
looking for scraps
that aren’t really there,
they stare at the
undersides of cars,
they peck at nothing
there’s no food there,
no plants, few bugs,
they ought to be
full of despair,
but a parking lot bird
never complains,
and sings as if
he hasn’t a care.
They fly under cars
looking for crumbs
from hungry bums
who eat their meals
behind steering wheels,
then open the door
and brush their laps
and parking lot birds
grab up the scraps.
Have you ever heard
of a parking lot bird
being struck by a car?
No, by far, they boast
the most incredibly skilled
virtual acrobatics
of low-flying flight,
they flit and alight
and never are killed,
none are hurt,
they all fly free,
when you crank up
your trusty Subaru
they always manage
to get away from you.
A parking lot bird
hasn’t much to hope for,
lost from his woods
and full of woe, he
just has nowhere else to go;
they grew up under
the big marquees
of some of the finest
groceries, and
they just keep singing,
never complaining,
hoping one day
you’ll bring them a scrap,
a morsel, a tidbit
a crumb or two,
leave it on purpose,
it’ll be good of you.