Is This yours?

She sat on the bench eating a sandwich
It tasted like ink with a dusting of apostrophes
When she bit into it, the letters scattered
Pigeons pecked at them
Heads bobbing
Swallowing them one by one
Is this yours? a man asked, holding up an “L”
She studied his suede boots
The pigeons lifted their heads
Their eyes as bright as pins
The man kept walking
Wait, she thought, but he didn't
She watched the boots cross the plaza
One blue, one red, a flag without stars
She thought he might be the star
She wished she hadn't eaten the sandwich
She should have saved the letters
Strung them together
Created words
Told the man her name