i am just a siglap pigeon

I am just a siglap pigeon
aged about three and a half I think
but anyway
who’s counting
I think I’m light grey and slightly purple around the chest
Really depends on which puddle through which I’m looking at myself
Not too bad looking I reckon
I am just a siglap pigeon
and I’m just saying
I’m not really picky with the food
mostly it’s just loose
bits of whatever that has fallen to the floor
grains of rice, strands of noodles
even dined a couple of times al fresco joints illuminated by yellow lights
patronized by expatriates with their foreign arms around
the shoulders
of the daughters of Singapore
but it’s not too often that I eat there
it’s not cause it’s too bourgeois that I feel out of place
but really,
how often does someone drop a ribeye steak?
Drank out of a scatter of broken bottles last night
woke up this morning in someone elses nest
with a massive headache
and unable to remember much else
I vaguely remember feeling like a parrot last night
having imbibed whatever that it was
and then I realized laying next to me
was some bird that I have never seen
as quietly as I could
I made my move

being a siglap pigeon
I see plenty of lovely women
cocooned in fine apparel
accompanied, chauffeured, assisted by men who obviously
just want to get the formalities over with and get feral
can’t say I blame you sir
I both drank and did the same thing as you last night
see you and I we are pretty alike
except that you can’t fly
and I don’t have a car
and that I shit on yours sometimes
but yeah
we did the same thing last night
Flew back to the large tree that sits on the periphery of siglap center
and met a couple of visiting mates
not siglap pigeons
but long time residents of neighbouring marine parade
they were having an intense debate
regarding why the trees have been trimmed naked
why they were being shot at
their nests on the ledges of the flats
decimated by water jets
my mate john showed me the paint that clung onto
his feet and feathers
and mentioned that all the flats
have been painted yet again despite being barely weathered

Paul, the oldest and wisest pigeon that I know
broke his silence to explain -
of politics
and electoral campaigns
He spoke of a tall man in white with silver hair who enjoyed shaking hands with people
and with his wings flapping angrily
held him responsible
He went on for a long time
like the elder pigeons do
threatening to take shits on this and that
as if it would solve their woes
frankly, I was getting bored
so I excused myself and took off
to where I could hopefully find myself some silence
away from those who speak and preach as if their mere opinions are more credible than science

I found a lush tree by the park connector
and sat there biding my time
watching students in uniforms
wrestle with their tongues
I have to say this convent girl was looking pretty fine
People ran up and down the park connector
for reasons unknown to me
perhaps they were chasing time
for frequently
panting
they checked their wrists

save for the teenage lovers
I don’t think any of them ever were successful
honestly, to me
they just looked like a bunch of damned fools

Just, only

In my memory I do not remember Katong to look anything like this. Before my eyes there were no buildings more than two levels high which made the expanse of the grey sky measureless, immortal. The sun was absent and the streets were wet. I could hear the sound of waves very clearly. Then, from just dampness, it rose to an inch, then two inches, and it kept rising. It cascaded horizontally exponentially quicker than it did vertically. The water was up to my shin. I ran a few steps towards my car, then stopped and ran off in the opposite direction when I saw the few cars in the otherwise empty lot drifting with the waves.
There was no one around. It seemed like the lack of people made the terror over all less immense. It was just me and the terror within in desolate Katong. I stopped running and let the waves take me. All over they threw me. There was a lot of sand stirred in the water. It was dark and silent for a long time before I heard a rhythm of heavy boots and oscillating fans. I opened my eyes and realized I was dreaming. Back in the army barracks, back in the real. The footsteps came from a new enlistee, and he looked at me nervously. I stacked a pillow on top of another and placed it behind my head. I shook his hand, then fell back and closed my eyes and thought about the apocalyptic vision that I had for a moment.
I looked out of the windows to the trees that line the main road running through camp. From across the road they stretch out their branches high in the air leaning and straining towards one another like divided, disconnected, distant lovers not meant to be together despite what they think. I thought of men on a rusty steam ship departing port stretching out their farewells, hearts, and hands from the decks waving to the ladies who will await them. Under the intertwined branches platoons and battalions of the force marched.
I put my clothes on and headed out into this world to continue sinning against God and sinning against Man.