Waves and Feathers
I hate being one of those pigeons —annoying street birds Shuffling their wings in pride and hunger, Crowding over two pieces of bread crumbs, Pecking each other’s feathers off just for a left-over hotdog.
I’d rather be a hungry sparrow —pitiful lonely creatures Too small to fight their gigantic bellwethers. I would save my feathers for the sky, Even if it means starving myself to death on a bleak winter night.
So I put my headphones on. They wrap around my ears like two iron shields. The drum beats Like waves. I sail past the hustling streets Hyperventilating at my own pace.
I wanted to escape, To run away, To steal a boat and sail across the bay For life within the concrete jungle wasn’t made for me. The only thing I dread is to explore the dangers unforeseen.
And then you came, Sitting next to me, Identical headphones And same tangible sound waves From your brown jacket made of leather. How your hair glowed like feathers. For one second I thought, I’d rather stay.
Weijing (Summer) Xu is currently a freshman student at Boston University, majoring in journalism. Weijing was born and raised in Xinjiang, China, and came to the U.S at the age of fifteen for high school and has lived here since. She is interested in mass communication and cultural anthropology, and enjoys writing creative fiction/non-fiction and poems during her free time.
The Albion Review 