the pigeon lady

“she wasn’t always a barfly”

he told me

as we looked down

the length of the wood

and watched her take

another shot


like the pigeon lady

in home alone

covered in shit

“she used to be free”

he said

“she used to be fun

and hell

she used to be my girlfriend”

“no shit”

i said

“yes shit

and she was wonderful

like a hippie

like joan baez

she loved hiking

and waterfalls

and nature

and the sky

and the stars

she would hike at night

quite often

so she could

see the stars

from the mountain peaks”

i sipped my beer

“she had a son

when i met her”

he said

“johnny and he was good

he was a good kid

and free-spirited like her

and he would ride his bike

a nice harley

rain or shine

then the rain

when the rain started to fall

it was falling hard one night

and he crashed

and died on the spot

the stars were what she liked

most about the the night sky,

but the stars started to fall

as hard as the rain did

ya know

and she never sat on

a mountain peak again

and she never looked

at the stars again

her boy was up there

and she couldn’t take it”

i sipped my beer

“after the funeral

we all came here

and drank to johnny

and she never left”

my eyes

once more

followed the bar

until i saw her

she threw back

another shot

and on the way down

her eyes met mine

i raised my beer

and she raised her shot glass

and i wished

for a reason

as good as that

to drink this much

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