for the birds

new to cities, i imagine
the man at the fruit stand
does he know there are places where the time doesn’t change?
where apples grow on trees
instead of carts?
has he ever sat on a porch swing
and watched the moon rise to cicada song?

even in the city i can miss the stars
and sometimes the noise is too much
to remember silence
 — or that life smells like more than a homeless man.

hey you. this is progress.
only some birds are at home here.
so i guess i’ll settle in
in New York City i am pigeon-​colored.