this morning #490.

this morning, beneath the bridge’s steel beams, there were years upon years of crusted pigeon shit & feathers. he stared up at the structure as he crossed underneath, almost expecting a furious flock of birds to suddenly emerge from behind the beams & swoop forth, bringing their disease down to his level. at times, he was more afraid of them than they were of him. when he walked past a pack of them congregated on the sidewalk, picking at a discarded carton of chinese food, they barely stepped aside. some called them “rats with wings.” he didn’t think they should get off that easy. they were “a goddamn invading force that will not rest until they’ve defecated on all that we love.”