A Time to Kill

I'll be out of the office most of the day as a work crew deals with this:




Bugs

They don’t bite
you when you’re drunk
to the bone.
They crawl into
your sores and wait
for a sober moment,
gnash their tiny teeth
and save their strength.
They dream of eggs
and extended family,
cousins on skid row,
brothers slaughtered in
air-Raid attacks,
wives who have dropped
from sight or else joined
bug cults and turned to religion.
They thirst for blood
and wait for the perfect
moment to avenge
the loss of their history.

from Cello Music & Other Poems

Which reminds me of a brilliant, hilarious book by the late, great William S. Burroughs.


TS