Breadcrumbs

The pidgeons on fourth street used to mock me. Each morning I'd tell them about the suffering of mankind, our trials and tribulations, only to be met with a rumbling "Coo".

Coo, such apathy makes me writhe. Indifference to a world on fire doesn't make you stoic. And yet they freely accept our breadcrumbs and fight over trash, feathered hypocrites.

Each morning I would chastize them

" Fools, have you no shame? Do you think yourself my betters? I shan't let you make fowl of our society and get away with it!""

" Coo" they would reply. The greek cynics proclaimed the simple life superior to self imposed complexities. Statues were built of them for the pidgeons to poop on, which I suppose proves their point.

Perhaps I was the one in the wrong. Our modern world is a conveneint one, technology staves off death at the cost of truly living, bodies softening from lack of use, our futures on strings tethered to the capital building. If only I could take leave of the opression and the lies and vanity that enslaves us, if only I could fly. I would not fly far though, the unfamiliar is worse than withering in this button down shirt. Maybe I'll perch up by a park bench, nice old ladies laying out feasts from time to time.

It would be coo.