• I am a fly on a highway

    that plays hop-scotch on filtered lights
    with hues of brown mud-cakes
    on a dashboard window. Looking out
    into a wide desert that reaps
    of dried up bottomless waterholes
    and Hitchcock cactuses –

    they will stare at me with goggled eyes
    through the far-end rear view window.
    I won’t have a corpse buried
    in a zen rock garden with curled
    eyelashes for vultures to peek out.

    My life is a dawn ‘til dusk experience --
    I’ll give birth 2,325 times in animal dung
    as larva swum, worshipping in a hipster memorial.
    I’m in a trunk of an abandoned car, play
    cross-dressing games with my wings,
    whispering, “Mamma Mia, here we go again…”