Tried to find a name for them beyond
the childish name my neighbour thought
appropriate. Vanilla flies he says, bastard
things that swarm late spring – saving grace
is they don’t bite. Wasn’t quite convinced
of that but held my tongue – they crawl like
mites upon your skin, have they a mind,
and I defy you comforted despite. Hey,
I say, I see that they’re attracted to the
light, had a swag a-crawl upon the PC
screen last night. Learned a lesson worth
a quid or two, don’t squash ‘em there, it
leaves a smear you can’t remove! My
neighbour shakes his silvered head as if to
say, my God how trite, displays disquiet
of any Bli Bli boy who likes a cooling swig,
doggedly replaces big drink coaster ATOP
his glass, turns to me, notes my glance; says
mate, the thing you gotta do round here
is keep them buggers out of ya beer...!
© 29 October 2007, I. D. Carswell
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