30 and over it.
Model behavior. Golden Girl. Hypochondriac. Hot Mess. Writer. Redhead. Mental Case. General Asshole.
"Now excuse me, while I play the grand piano."
I didn’t know Pigeons mated and laid eggs year round. I don’t like going near them. They’re dirty, spread disease of course, and are just generally gross, but I will watch them and be entertained by them as long as they keep their distance.
Of course I would never hurt one, because it is an animal, and alive.
You would thing that being a bird, a pigeon would lay eggs in the springtime. While this is true, they do, they also do it in the fall as well.
I’ve been going to the 5th floor to use the bathroom as of late. There is one office on the 5th floor. The bathrooms there are always clean. Quiet. Isolated. Sometimes, if I just want to sit for a few minutes in silence I will go there and sit on the floor for a few minutes, or hoist myself up to the countertop and lean my back against the mirror. I know I am not the only one that does this, sometimes there are ashes in the stall with the window, so someone must find quiet solitude there to smoke.
Anyway, the window. It is small, and looks out onto a small terrace I guess, a porch of sorts. There are two access doors, but it really looks like no one ever goes out there. There is a lot of pigeon debris.
The other day I went up to the 5th floor because I felt a quiet storm coming in my stomach, and when that happens, that is the other reason I go to the 5th floor. I know that no one is going to come in and make me feel uncomfortable or anything, and left to my own devices I can easily work it out and head back to work.
As I stood, I looked to the left and noticed a pigeon on the terrace, looking back at me. A lone pigeon. Sitting on a flimsy pile of sticks.
I said hello, like an idiot, but this is a habit I seem to have now, saying hello or excuse me, or sorry really quickly upon making eye contact with t a stranger. Though normally human, I guess it is just a knee jerk reaction for me.
Of course it didn’t answer back, it just sat there staring. But still I continued talking to it for a minute like I would any animal, asking the same questions I ask. “What are you doing there?” “Are you having a good day?” “Is this your home?”
I am a strange fucking person.
But anyway, I continued asking mundane questions, and then said, OH! I will bring you some bread tomorrow, if you are still here. Or some seeds. A snack. It will be nice.
Today I went again to the 5th floor. I had a piece of trader joe’s awful gluten free wheat bread wrapped in a napkin. I almost for got for a moment, and then I realized that Linda has her bag of bread in the fridge all the time, it is all she eats. So I stole a slice. She’s a jerk anyway. She tattles on us.
I conceal it half heartedly as I step onto the elevator because I have to go up and I do it in a full elevator (I knew I should have just climbed the stairs) and quickly slide out onto the 5th floor and go to the bathroom. Right to the window.
She’s sitting there again. I know it is a she because of what happened next. She looks at me, and because I am a crazy person, I feel like there is a flicker of recognition there. She is sitting weird, with her bottom kind of in the air, so I ask if she is alright.
Are you alright friend?
I brought bread, like I said. It’s not the best kind, but you’ll like it ok.
I break it up a little and toss it out the window. She flinches. Looks at me again. I continue throwing the bread.
Very slowly, she eases, and stands, and walks gently towards the nearest crumble.
There on the ground in the middle of her measly pile of sticks, is a single, solitary, white as snow egg.
It looks just like a chicken egg, but smaller. Much smaller.
Oh, I say. You’ve a baby there friend, that’s nice. You’ve picked a very good spot to keep safe and sound.
I finish tossing the bread. She eats her fill and then walks over to her nest, gently sitting back down.
I watch for a moment more. Well friend, I won’t be back until Monday. Maybe I will have seeds then. Take of your baby, friend.
And I went back to work.
My anaconda DON’T.
My anaconda DON’T.
My anaconda DON’T WANT NONE unless you got
A job. A car. Money. Teeth.