Monday, May 02, 2005
In shades from the bright and blistering heat
Do you search and find your seat.
And wing blades fastened tight
You rest away from littered lights.
Your footsteps light, your movements a sight
Of dolce against the world’s disquiet.
Petite you are, and as any would see
You invite yourself to others to share your company.
I observe your stead, your steady approach
In your mature brown gown, and wish you goodbye.
By smacking you dead you freakin’ cockroach
And flush you down, down: die, die!