i passed 13 pigeons on my way
to the café. am i corny to hope
someone happened to spread
more breadcrumbs than usual?
crossing under the bridge my
wet shoes left psalms upon the
staircase opposite the pub we
drank in two days ago. we talked
about carol & vivian maier and i
felt the wind. wind like atom fin
-gers wrenched the door open
and ran themselves across the
table up my arms and down my
shirt right through the neck-hole.
wind like knees to a chest, maybe.