I love it when a pigeon or ibis
or some other bird
nobody wants to photograph or save
from extinction
walks into a shop
and instead of instantly realising
that it can’t afford anything,
it continues to pace forward,
which is especially good in pigeons,
whose oil-rainbowed necks are thick
and flexible, as if custom-made
for browsing.
I think if teenagers
behind the counters didn’t get so excited
and chase them away,
the birds might enjoy an hour or two
among the clothes racks,
or smelling the life-giving smell
of fresh sandwiches.
One of the best moments
of my life
occurred yesterday morning
at my favourite
bakery, when I met the gold eyes
of the pigeon who was standing on the counter
above the meat pies,
tilting her head to ask what I would like.