Zoo birds have flown from the spinning trash of trolley tracks. Flown above overpasses of Vine street, past the old reservoirs and museums. Not greek or irish bent they flew below the sun their wings of feather muscle not of wax but still the migratory fear of height stayed deep. Zoo birds flew past the doors of neon bars on South turning heads of straight haired youth waiting in line beneath the crowded signs of stages. Those below the gardens of the Schuylkill saw them as did the drunks of Washington Square and the outlier northeast above the heads of near suburban lawns and fresh washed cars. Zoo birds have flown from the cages of spectators, where the eagle envies sparrow, flown only to fly beyond cages where flight is the danger of loss. They fly by night signs as moths scurry towards the moon but swing above the air in some high cluster grace not yet understood. Men and Women; tone tied and too high heel, weave the blue stairways of West Market and only from a glimpse from some high window see them in formation. Zoo birds have flown the black asphalt of the city, maybe towards the ocean maybe just to fly.