I was a fly
On her fiberglass
shower wall
It was a bath-less
shower,
A claustrophobic one
In this
misanthrope’s
Bachelor pad.
As I was resting there,
I decided I wanted to
Catch
her attention,
Maybe come in for a
bite,
A meal.
I buzzed in front of
her eyes.
She opened them
And blinked a few
times
As water soaked and
re-soaked her lashes
Then she zeroed in
on me
With crossed eyes
And quickly clapped her
hands together.
She got me.
And looked down
To watch my little
black form
Go down the drain
Then crossed herself
And quickly became
aware
Of the absurd
superstition
Brought on by this
blasphemy
And conversed with
God in her mind
Telling him he
wasn’t real
And therefore
shouldn’t be angry with her,
Not for killing me,
But for enjoying it.
That he couldn’t be
wrathful nor vengeful
Towards her
Because he didn’t
exist.
(And nothing did
happen to her.
Karma’s a bitch that
way sometimes)
Her mind shifted to
a recollection
Of a lecture in an
ancient religion course
Back in undergrad
About those females Jains
Who swept the ground
Before every step
they took
To prevent crushing
any organisms
Along their path
Which consequently
led to the death
Of some organisms
The girl presumed.
Which would’ve been
sort of comical
Had she not felt
envious
Of these ladies’
good intentions.
But she giggled to
herself anyway
And now I’m in her
internal plumbing
And I hope to God
she feels permanently constipated.
