By Andrew R. Duckworth
On the way back from the canal,
A stone tower and the Basilica,
And then a wide open square
Of people and pigeons.
I was told that if you’re pelted
With pigeon droppings
It’s a sign that you’ll have good luck.
The square is spacious,
Little cafes with outdoor seating,
A bar or two, a dessert place,
And a sea of people,
A lot of them tourists, like I was,
And a million pigeons
Dying and flying to bless with good luck.