It's late and I am sleepy so I wrote one more poem
Pigeons came. Ate the herbs outside my door.
They'd sit out on my balcony and coo
loudly when I was working. Pigeons do
much that's annoying, shit upon the floor
wander into the hall, flap at the light
and have to be shooed out into the air.
They've stupid little eyes. Pigeons don't care
About what we want. When they sleep at night
they murmur in their sleep where I can hear
inside the wall. I thought I'd better scare
them off, hung shiny mobiles everywhere
made from computer discs. They squawk in fear
at silver spinning circles with their eyes.
One makes love to himself – at least he tries.