The box keeps giving.

A another lost poem by my good friend, Mr. Song. May he rest in peace.
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Insect Love -

The man jumped in order to punctuate his thought.
He jumped up straight with purpose and fluidity.
The jump was nothing special, though.
To be honest I almost missed the thing.
Tragedy struck on the return landing.
The poor man landed and ended a black ants life.
To be clear I love a good bug squashing.
But I had my eye on that ant.
Had my eye while the man was ranting and sputtering.
It held my gaze as my mind began to wander.
What are you ant? How do you think?
For a moment I was in love.
I contemplated my life with the ant.
A six hour ant foot massage.
I became restless and my eyes watered.

Thud

The ant was a wreck.
It's bunda continued to squirm around.
Trying to separate from the crushed head.
I Held my breath as long as I could.
My ears popped with pressure.
How long is too long?

"Sal!"

I coughed out and inhaled.
Looked up and panted.

"You know you killed an ant?" I asked.

"Hmm?" the man didn't understand.

"That ant there." I came back clearly.

"Lets get some food." he muttered with a shrug.

I ate twice my weight in french fries for my lost companion.
Because what is there to do after realizing your love has no boundary.

New Jersey, 12/20/1985
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