Christmas Street Pigeon Pie

The secretary in black stockings & bright green coat was the last to leave the board room. She filled up three foil platters with sumptuous leftovers from the Christmas party buffet & took them down twenty three floors to the street. The courses were placed carefully in a waist high planter, around the speckled white trunk of a small garnish tree.

Pedestrians streamed by on the sidewalk, oblivious to the feast beside them. It was a Samoan who stalled first & took note of the sidewalk fare. He perused the seasoned suckling sliced on the torso, and the trays either side, brimming with stuffed turkeys et desserts delicat de France.

The iron skinned scaffold worker tucked into slices of pork & bird. He was joined around the tree by a woman in gym gear, a bike messenger, a couple of contractors, an office worker & a stumblebum. Seven strangers were sharing a sidewalk Christmas dinner & chatting amiably, ‘…daang this is good!!’

From a distance the instant party looked like a huddled flight of pigeons taking found entrees down to the bone, a flock of pagans feasting curbside. This was an Olde Yule, where everyone with wings is invited to drop by…