OrphanPip

I don't really like it that much but I felt like posting it

Birds and Fast Food

In a food court of downtown Montreal,
I sit watching little birds fly about.
Why can I not help but look at you all
flying here and there, can you not get out?
Do you remember what the sky was like,
before this prison of crumbling concrete
and quickly snatched French fries, what it was like
before the sky was nothing but a neat
portrait on the glass of the arced skylight,
when life was free to live for all those with wings
and you could go to where ever you might:
high, low, near, far, whatever it could bring?
Or has the allure of cheap food had fast
clouded your memory of joys that last?