we passed just once after it happened
gray tuesdays always bring forgotten loves
our hands brushed, and for a single strangled second
our eyes no longer held the disconnect

we fed pigeons in the park
i held the bread, you held my hand
we held each other's hearts
but pigeons die bloody and alone
tracked down by cats who slink home to sip warm milk
and small boys grow to men who care less about birds
and more about bees
and in the real world,

there are no happy endings.