The Day the Pigeon Died.

Today is the day the pigeon died. The day the pigeon died is the anniversary of when you first tried to break up with me. You stopped going to work, and you said you needed to travel down to Santa Rosa to spend your birthday and Thanksgiving at the beach with the whore you call your best friend. The day you get back to the city, I pick you up at the airport, only to find you as dry as ever. Ready to drop me off your life, and even more ready to get high. I told you to stop listening to Rilo Kiley because when you are under the influence, you feel all songs speak to you. You said it wasn’t Rilo Kiley, but me stealing your laundry quarters that got to you. I said me stealing your laundry quarters had nothing to do with it, because I would replace them tomorrow. You said it was just the principle of it… and that, if you were to die, I was no longer in charge of giving your diaries away to the city’s Historical Society. Immortality.

We got back together soon enough, but I guess that was just the symptom of what was to come. Today, as I see a dying pigeon with absolute paralysis, laying with his legs turned to stone, facing the sky, and without possibilities of regaining mobility, I think of you. Call it a pigeon stroke, but his head seemed lucid, and his eyes upset at my intrusion. How dare I interrupt him in his death bed? How dare I steal your laundry quarters?

Years later after we crossed the great divide, everything you hated about me has changed. I stopped stealing quarters… and not only that, I hate many things you hate too. It is as if through negative conditioning, you transfered your pet peeves to me. Now I cannot stand people who don’t divide their colors from their whites, people who are needy, non-recyclers, people who don’t tip, people who eat crap, anyone who doesn’t work, doesn’t wear layers, and all those who don’t understand the importance of moisturizing.

So, why do I remember all this today out of all days? Could it be true that humans have some sort of cellular memory unexplained by scientists? This cellular memory can make you feel sadness or pain in specific moments, simply because the planet’s rotation tells your body where you’ve been in time. And this memory causes your body to react to things your conscious mind doesn’t remember. So maybe that’s why today I felt the need to prey on a pure heart, seduce, and hurt them the same way you do. See also: Role playing. See also: Perpetuation of Abuse. See also: Numb.

One day, the same way today’s pigeon met his death, you and I will also die, and none of this shit will matter. Who cares about quantum physics, cellular memory, missing quarters, ironic-Britney fans, and all those pseudo-religions? As a materialist I say that religion, poetry, and love is what unites us to the unknown divine, and as soon as the divine is achieved and known, once the kingdom of god reaches us with absolute perfection, there will be no more religion, heaven, or hell, because we’ll live in it.

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