Dear straw hat, the pigeon chose you

On a Friday morning in a Casco Viejo plaza you stood with a folded paper map and a straw hat, turning slowly like someone looking for a street that had moved. I was on a bench knowing the answer and too shy to say it. A pigeon landed on your hat. You laughed out loud, took the hat off, looked at the pigeon, and then asked me for directions. I gave them. You went left. The pigeon went right. It was a good day. I have the map in my head now. It is mostly pigeons.