pigeons
I sit in the park —
no not that one —
and watch as the pigeons
take flight. one by one
they ascend, mimicking
the flutter of my heart.
I cannot breathe while they are
in the air, suspended
in time, I fall. they do not notice.
the crumbles of my food
tumble from my hands onto the ground
and this they see. the birds land.
it is too late.
they eat the broken
treasures and leap,
on to another.
I stay fallen,
killed by
apathy.