Emily Kirchner

I’m crossing the crosswalk You think I’ve crossed you Rushing, we’re paid by the hour You’re flipping the bird and shouting choice words as traffic racks up its power. This chicken is trying to cross the road amidst the hungry eagles who tell me by the way they honk, “I’d hit you if it were legal.” Our nest eggs are about to crack but hatched plans won’t approach You’re in your car I’m on the street But still, we both fly coach. We’re birds of a feather flocking together to migrate through the week, Flying uphill Can’t pave savings with bills while paying through the beak. We all fly beneath the planes of existence, joining sight If we ruffle feathers in resistance, Persist in fight and flight.