I hurl the piping hot stovetop
Across the balcony at the pigeon
As it tries and fails badly to
Hide underneath the deck chair
The thing clangs against the metal chair legs
As the rodent pops straight up
Whacking its stupid little skull against
The base of the seat
The hot coffee splashing across wooden slats
Bits of feather and dirt fill the air
And are caught in the 7am sun rays
As the bird slams against the glass over and over
Trying to get away
And I watch on gleefully
die you mother
Just take off first
So I don’t have to sully my hands
Picking up your dirty corpse
A second bird perched and static
Looks on from across the way
Unflustered by the commotion
I wonder which of us
Looks more insane to him
Finally the thing makes its escape
Unharmed
And I am left there
Alone without caffeine
As they disappear together into the morning sky
Time to go to work
I guess.