Wednesday, 15 September 2010
timeless flies search for fries
In the dock lies a half-eaten banana
thrown by that little child in an embellished skirt
a swarm of flies land on the debris
making it their temporary home
from afar the flies seem to chant prayers
maybe seeking answers for their early demise
I had assumed they had no backbone,
the evidence belies me,
you can see the time trickling away to their tunes
what I see is a blank wall splattered with ketchup
from another half-eaten burger,
this time a grown up being the culprit.
"now the flies ask, where are the fries?"