On seventh avenue
near the crossing with Sandy Boulevard,
thousands of crows fill the street trees,
line the rooftops, the power lines,
every pole and perch in sight.
Crows are flocking to Portland,
crossing every border.
They like our progressive politics,
the entrepreneurial business climate.
Crows are innovators, dressed in mod black,
always in touch with fashion and the latest trends.
They’ve taken seventh avenue
spreading east toward high ground.
No walls will stop them
although the hawks we brought in
and built nests for on the river bridges
chased them from downtown.
The hawks won a battle
but the crows are here for the war.
The city is prime picking and they’ve cornered
trash removal, avian security.
Murder incorporated, they fill the overhead space
and the people just drive on.
Me and my buddies are loading up on ammo,
oiling our guns, dressed in camo.
We know a fight when we see one
and we’re damned if crows will take our town.
We do like the way they look on the high wires though,
the black gear and cocky attitude, free air and all that.
Maybe we’ll make a truce, carve out a treaty.
There might be room for us and the crows
but there’ll be a price. No handouts,
no camping on the rooftops.
So far the crows say no deal, but we’ll see.

photo by Gabriele Diwald