Poema Uno

Wrote this for Creative Writing last semester...it's not perfect yet, but I'm getting there. It was my "I don't know what to write" poem, but I think it's turned into much more than that. It's called "Pigeons" :

Words peck the eyes of words

who turn to face the words

who are fighting

to get closer to the fries left on the ground.

Words waddle on orange

stick legs, to avoid

drivers cussing at

them over leather steering wheels.

Words scatter like dirty birds,

the kind with the wings that echo the

color of rainbow

scum, spread

over spilled gasoline.

Words, try to scatter

but, I trap them in a net and gently pull it back

to the surface.

I let most go,

messages

written on scraps of paper and tied to their left foot.

I ones trapped I keep,

squeeze

till black ink spills to my fingers--

a sentence

between faint blue lines.