That vulture on the street light
turned out to be a pigeon,
shifting from foot to foot
like some frozen pensioner at the bus stop
as a goods train rattled behind.
Only a flimsy curtain
separates us from that other life
that does not exist
but still goes about its business.
I can hear them now again
on the other side,
rattling pans, squabbling.
Oh the gods take us apart
like a piece of old bread.