Why I'm Not A Bed, Rabbit, Etc.

[shemthepenman]

The wind moaned and rattled the row of drunks,
perched like pigeons,
on the wall outside The Circle K;
and, as morning rippled across the carpark,
I split my boot and joined them for a drink.
Katherine read us Ovidius
and Ovidius read us Katherine
to confound what made us beautiful
from the start.
Then we swam
and we swam,
to The Bird in the Hand
where the bird was a bottle of gin.
Then we sang,
and we sang,
and we danced
and we ran
from our lives
just about to begin.

[just mercedes]

Are you psychic? I've just been having a conversation about birds, wrote a poem, came here to post it, and here the birds are. I think the final line has a lot of weight.

Maybe, to remain faithful to Ovid, you could set this in elegaic couplets, as in The Art of Love?

I like the progression of swam, sang, danced, ran.

[Leanne]

Nobody begins beautiful -- but it's hardly surprising that beginnings all contain gin.

So the wind moaned as the pigeons were drinking the Beefeater
Katherine's Ovid ran off with the dish and the spoon