Fast Food Chain

Bon Faire market, about a quarter to nine,

I’m standing in the cool wind

handling the gas pump

and a hawk loops over, wings cocked,

as if to say, Fuck all this urban traffic,

I’m hunting, and slid out of sight

while I pumped and paid;

as I’m turning onto 30th

there it is again, holding a pigeon,

one wing fanned, landing on the child care fence

losing pigeon feathers

and red pigeon guts

with a stony grin, and the red fan

of its own tail

spread, its eye on me.