An amusement park for pigeons
Stove pipes and wire frames
from abandoned billboards
or forgotten plans.
Pushed back to the edge of the building,
building a new space
without walls
without specific direction
or purpose
these spokes and poles,
cylinders and smoke-less pipes
take on new meaning
for nearly flightless birds
who climb and play
look out from towers
imagined royal
whirling and spinning
on rusty wheels
urban blight ferris wheels
for fun
creaking, climbing ladders
rotten planks for daring
occasional pools of condensation from fog, smog
steaming sometimes, like a spa for rats.
This place, space is a paradise for pigeons
flocking far and wide
the word is out
to climb and crawl, spin and whirl
rest and relax
meander and watch.
This is a destination, a beginning and end
for grey feathered friends to be together
sing and chirp, walk and talk
sit and wonder
while eyes from human onlookers
gaze on their actions
as if they spell an answer to the riddle,
the puzzle they’ve been puzzling for years
looking from that window upon
their amusement park for pigeons.