Flies

I come home nightly

To strip to my cold nakedness

And run around in my baby skin

My smelly sweat attraction

And roll up my current fall issue

Of New York magazine

Curl it up into a bat

And swing at the iridescent

Buzzing-by larva laying

Disease infecting mother fucka

Flies

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.8.30.01:27:17@NYC 296