City city, rising high
all strung out across the sky
what artist’s smearings could interpret
thy jagged profile, so raggedly imperfect?
Since your swift gold rush run was done
and your thrashing railway web’s been spun,
have you embossed yourself in gold-tinged filagree?
Did we who trod the prairies plod thee?
Oh lookee here.
Yonder cometh the world traveler
he hath the fat and hungry look:
Pigeon pigeon, strutting like a dude
with bold entreaties for some food
how long hast thou been loitering without fear?
You got a permit to solicit here?
Who gave you permission to hang around?
acting like you own this town.
‘Though you resemble your country cousin dove,
thou huntest not, but just beg and grub.
I surmise that in some faraway jungle
thou was chased away by some uncivilized uncle;
and now, thy feathery incandescent suit
cloaks with grandeur thy wand’ring grubby pursuit.
Oh ye little urbanized beggar
art thou a diner at this establishment, a regular?
Hast thou honed and perfected y’er plodding pleading game?
Hast thou an identity? Who gavest thee thy name?
Every city whence I travel
thou are there on the sidewalk, in the gravel,
sometimes poking in the parks where it’s grassy
other times pecking pavement, bold and sassy.
When I get to heaven wilt thou be there too?
Groveling and grubby down near my shoe.
But perhaps thou wilt there soar free.
Did He who form the eagle form thee?
Fare thee well my gentle companion,
with winged flapping in flight-paths random.
Cherish every encounter and generous friend
until in yon celestial city we do meet again.
Get along now!
You can’t be grazing here like a cow.
We shall see what will be
between you and me in eternity.