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the pigeon with the broken leg

bus late, he watches pigeons feeding,
fascinated briefly by the one with the feathers standing
at the back of its head,
fascinated briefly by the one puffing himself up
to show off for a girl,
fascinated briefly by the one missing some tail feathers
the one missing the toe,
fascinated briefly by the fat one, the small one,
the quick one, the slow one . . .
captivated by the one with the broken leg
it feeds just like the others,
no, not just like the rest,
slower, later, it gets a little less,
it finishes alone, the others gone off to someplace else
he thinks briefly of picking it up,
carrying it off to be with the rest,
maybe even helping it get food first next time
he watches it limp, carrying its weight on one foot.
lopsided, slow, but still it keeps going.
he thinks again of helping it,
but his bus arrives.
so he goes.
he'll watch it again tomorrow.