They swoop in small murders
from one church steeple to the next
like some low-budget, religious-themed
sequel to that Hitchcock film.
They congregate in alleys behind
coffee shops and empty retail storefronts
crumbling into their own emptiness.
They interrupt downtown traffic,
our local crows, morning, noon and night,
no respect at all for the ritual
of rush hour or the handful of people
who continue to stubbornly observe it.
If they were a street gang,
they might be called The Vultures.