Dead Birds Poem by Kevin Lowell

I am the dollars in few,
crammed in the corner of my wallet
traded for a plastic plate with a dead bird that couldn't fly
The dead bird shouted and cried
only the tears were my own and I kept it inside

I feel adrift..

the path before is now and ahead and yet-
forming on one noble function of time
I watch and observe the world while I sit here

A romance just a few tables away
my eyes and mind tug gently on the strings of the heart

I am the refusal to die, because I am the fear of having not lived

I am the screaming exult of passion
without love
A profile of Success
without fail
A life of
friends with only strangers

...I feel adrift

I eat the dead bird off the plastic plate
and continue on the path