We see them
clutter the coffee shops.
We wait for
them,
Patiently, to
exit.
Empty cups,
Half-eaten
donuts,
Left in
overflowing trash cans.
We feast.
For we are
the city scavengers.
The one’s
flying high.
The night
watchers.
Survival is
our fittest.
But they make
it easy,
At their own
disposal.
by Dawn Booth
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