Listen, pigeon. I know you’re bored and hungry and self-hating. I know you waddle around in a dusty feathery loneliness, clucking, disconsolate, revolted at all your peers in your peer group. I know you fly sometimes but mostly look around for bread crumbs or puke to peck at. Transform yourslf. Become a dove or a sparrow. A weed, a twig in the shade, a lusty imprecation. Just quit bugging me. I have better things to do than to care about you. I have my whole life to lead.
(“Compassion” from Delinquent, by Mina Pam Dick. Who also can be found here.)
