Just as you think you’re nosediving
like a pigeon caught in the tail
by an out-of-season firework,
you find yourself talking
to someone who was once
a bad place in your life,
talking and thinking
like the song says,
let it be, words of wisdom,
and you droop with suspicion
that it’s your own name you
peck out of the pigeon pecked
earth whenever you go
picking about for enemies
because life can always be worse,
so much worse, and it might
be again now that the words
are stuck in your head,
let it be, words of wisdom,
stuck now with you,
a breadcrumb trail
that won’t quit you
as you peck along
leaving behind all
that was so bad for you
for so long except you.
