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I'm in a perpetual phase of transition which doesn't seem to be phasing out.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Death of an Insect

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.