We're Pigeons
By S&M

We're pigeons in a love nest.
A musty attic-studio
coated in chipping lavender and olive drab.
Perched across Venetian canals
where I swing my boots
and we sip our espressos
speaking of sangria and art.
And you spill in your excitement
so your cotton-weave shirt
smells like caffeine and cigars.
I wash it under the faucet
of the stained porcelain sink
because the bathtub is filled
with aquamarine dye and rags.
We can't ignore the heat,
we can't ignore the steam
that beckons us with its stale smell,
luring us into its misty dreams.
Waking to the smell of morning breath
and the warmth of held hands.
We're early birds forgetting the worms,
because we have other plans.