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There’s a fly in my kitchen
buzzing around; how did he get in?
so annoying, why choose me to pester?
I chase him with a wet rag, upsetting crockery.
I think I’ve got him, no I haven’t
as he sails past, lands on a jam jar,
on a doorknob, on my arm!
can’t you keep still for a minute, fly?
I wonder what he wants, what is he thinking,
do flies think or do they just buzz?
There was an old song from my youth
how did it go? I’m a lonely little petunia
in an onion patch and all I do is cry all day.
I open the kitchen door and he buzzes out
into the sunlight, into freedom!
So flies like old songs too
I’ll have to remember that.
© Johnmichael Simon
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