the red pigeon

getting a car wash today
about 1:30 p.m.
I saw this red pigeon
come floating through the
air awkwardly
he hit the asphalt
on his side
and was still–
one eye open
he was dying   or dead
and I walked away
and stood by my car
where
the fellows were wiping
the windows
and then a Cadillac
came fast and
got the pigeon.
it made a splot of red
and one of the fellows
said, “Christ.”
I couldn’t have expressed
it
any better.

I tipped him a quarter
and drove off
east on Hollywood Boulevard
and then I
took a right at
Vermont.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1975
Source
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: