Statuary Sparrows Perched on Black Asphalt

They could have said:
In this house we worship ketchup.
Take off your birth shoes,
Cleanse thy soles and feel the tomato.
Knowing no better nor worse
You would have obliged.

All things distilled to their sovereign
Rudiments are made of ketchup.
Ketchup is everywhere, watching you always,
Walking you to school, kicking you in the shins
When you won't eat your ketchup,
Putting you in the cellar with the mastiffs
When you say the forbidden savagery:
          "Ketchup you!"

Each year the Ketchup Festival
Comes to town. Just this once
Police lower their guns and join the fun,
Spit darts at ketchup-filled balloons
Which explode on wall canvas.
For old dogs, this is the only art.

But you're the kid who wears green
And eats tissues. All you want to do
Is sit on the steps for hours
And watch those statuary sparrows
Perched on black asphalt.
But in this house we worship ketchup.