I watch a wasp labour
across August pavement,
feet scorched for
want of working wings.
I pump my gas,
chew an indignant hangnail,
ponder this wretch's
end.
Misery thick like heat,
fuel stops. I re-holster,
then euthanize
with size four flats.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment