we were callin'em birds
cuckoos, storks, pigeons, chickens
differin as religions
with one central theme
understood they like bread
they would cheep, we were cheap
crumbs, no serious funds
enough to get their hair did, and nails done
young ones afraid to leave the nest
they would flock to the parks
we would watch from afar
door slightly ajar
in pursuit of bird brain
it was the game, thrill of the bounty
in counties preserves
photograph them up close, with nary a feather
barely seen outside with them in varying
weather
nothing invested, just wanted their nest egg
so I would spin them, evenings spent making small talk
about new jordans
sheer boredom, if not for the lust thickening
ma was like taste this, its finger licken
sorry miss
I don't eat chicken
only vegetables, night was highly regretable
fair weather, still on schedule
handwriting illegible, chicken scratch
mix and match
won't work out, ma I got doubts
plus
don't you have to fly south?