Adrift

A fly
Landed here. Right here on my finger
Near the nail. It must have been too exhausted
From trying to get outside to notice that the rest
Area it had chosen was MY INDEX DIGIT. What else would cause
It to do something so abysmally stupid

As to disturb my nap? Last I checked, that was a pretty stupid
Thing to do, even for a fly
Too tired to think straight. And yet, that initial contact didn’t cause
Immediate revulsion. My brain told me it was an angel’s finger
Brushing mine, a feather coming to rest
On the auditorium seat next to me, exhausted

From the Wednesday as well, exhausted
From its attic imprisonment, from its stale, stupid
Dust-mote acquaintances, fallen from the rest
Of high society. It would fly
No more, nor would it lift a finger
Against a cause

Of cancer, nor for a cause
Determined to relieve exhausted
Single parents from the peanut-butter-and-jelly finger
Of their firstborn. It can no longer see past the veil of stupid
Tragedy, the haze of misunderstandings meant to fly
In the face of you and I and Brad Pitt and Jane Goodman and all the rest

Of mankind – we need a rest
To remember the cause
Of things, to fly
Beyond this exhausted
Earth, to be stupid
And recall the feel of a finger

Pointed at our shirt, where the print of your finger
Planted a whorl of chocolate sauce to rest
As you made that stupid
Face, like you were the cause
For the existence of every exhausted
Joke and gesture ever to fly

From lips. It’s stupid, but I can still feel a stain on my finger
From where that infernal fly paused for a split-second’s rest
A minute ago. ‘Cause of that, I need to wash my hands…but after class; I’m exhausted.

I’m hungry, but I can’t eat the jewelry.

Ah well.  Probably tastes like orchids anyways.

Oh, but eel!  There’s good sushi in the fridge!

That does not taste like orchids.  More like rainbows.

Outside is still ice.  I’d like it to be, at least.

Frozen landscape is my personal soup du jour

Everyday – it helps when elephants are about.

Still hungry…what else is in the…?  A Post-it Note…

“Bad sushi in fridge!  Tastes like Osama!”  When was

That from?  “Bad sushi in fridge!  Tastes like”…rain…bows…there.

I need more Post-its.  Running out of kleenex too.

Not actual Kleenex – those make me cry coins.

Sounds nice, but it’s not; sugar cubes would be better.

Where’s my puppet?  I need culinary advice;

Without him, I am but a yo-yo in the wind.

This is too hard.  I’ll just go buy some tomatoes.