To the Fruit Flies in my Drain

This was my last day of poetry class and I must admit, I was seriously disappointed. That was the only class that I looked forward to this semester. As soon as we got rid of those grad students (who were smarter and way more talented than we were), we became free to just write, to make fun of ourselves, to experiment. After class ended, a girl that I became friends with and I stayed in the classroom, just talking. We eventually ended up at a coffee shop for about an hour and a half. I don't know why we hadn't done that before.

Anyway, here is the last poem I wrote during class. It's just a free-writing and was supposed to be an ode, so it's kind of silly.

To the Fruit Flies in my Drain

You're a flicker in my eye,
the blink of a dark star on the spacious
white of my ceiling.
Great red eyes-- a gene experiment
in my own leased laboratory.
I've seen you soar out from my sink,
minuscule angels from a drainpipe
nursery, bent on flying
whoknowswhere.
You've perched on my eyelids
as I read,
snuggle on my pillow
as I sleep,
lounge in the misty sauna,
as I shower.
O, my little squatters,
my illegal aliens,
the least you could do is pay half of the rent.

Ah, they have to go!

K.