Retirement and Bird
A bird in a button-down shirt and a vest
joined me for coffee, and sadly confessed,
pecking distractedly at a cinnamon roll,
his manner affectingly droll.
What he said, as I sat on my park bench,
was (and I quote), "if you pardon my French",
(he then carefully searched for a term),
and said, "how I do despise worm."
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