Some Princetonians believe 
that simply living within
the 08540 postal zone 
adds at least 
20 points to an IQ.
And they must be convinced 
that even the resident geese 
that loiter at the office parks
and on the outskirts of town
are literate.
How else can one explain
the sign? 
The sign that had to cost enough
to feed and clothe
a family of four for months
in an underdeveloped country.
The sign that reads, "NO GEESE,"
and for added emphasis adds
a picture of a goose
inside the universal 
red slashed circle. 
And being Princeton geese,
they ignore the sign anyway, 
having also inherited 
that ivied sense 
of entitlement.
While in my neighborhood,
the geese lean on
the black plywood hunting dog silhouettes
meant to discourage them, 
smoking cigarettes and making
goose calls at passing women.
And even the park police are 
intimidated. When you call to complain,
they confide in hushed tones,
"There’s nothing we can do...
It’s best to try to ignore them.

This poem first appeared in Edison Literary Review.
Used here with the author’s permission.