J. L. Von Ende (17)
Leftover Snack
I know
At least
4 things about pigeons.
I know
That the one who sits in the flower boxes
Off Michelle Street
Is named Fernando
And prefers toast crusts to bagel crumbs
(Unless it’s raining out).
I know
That the cluster around my bus stop
Has a book club every Tuesday;
They munch ground coffee and read lines of Frankenstein
Until they must catch the train home.
I know
That the one who pecked at my foot Sunday morning
Was asking me to share my blueberry muffin
I wasn’t going to finish it anyway.
I know
That there are a million people in this city
I am one of the masses:
On the train, on the bus, in the traffic,
I prefer to share my company
With some charcoal doves
And a packet of French fries.
J. L Von Ende is a 17-year-old boy who writes to stay sane amidst heavy studies of mathematics and physics. He spends his time feeding pigeons and watching subway trains in central D.C.
Leftover Snack
I know
At least
4 things about pigeons.
I know
That the one who sits in the flower boxes
Off Michelle Street
Is named Fernando
And prefers toast crusts to bagel crumbs
(Unless it’s raining out).
I know
That the cluster around my bus stop
Has a book club every Tuesday;
They munch ground coffee and read lines of Frankenstein
Until they must catch the train home.
I know
That the one who pecked at my foot Sunday morning
Was asking me to share my blueberry muffin
I wasn’t going to finish it anyway.
I know
That there are a million people in this city
I am one of the masses:
On the train, on the bus, in the traffic,
I prefer to share my company
With some charcoal doves
And a packet of French fries.
J. L Von Ende is a 17-year-old boy who writes to stay sane amidst heavy studies of mathematics and physics. He spends his time feeding pigeons and watching subway trains in central D.C.