Flushing Curb Service
In a hundredth of a second the Venus flytrap closes,
Buzzing fly, the devil, welcomes into the void, pestilence,
To the fourth ring of hell to bite at the asses of the ambitious,
Those tearing the taffy to acquire square footage,
Limousine service to the airport curbside kiosk,
“Watch your step, lady, welcome to La Guardia;
What’s your destination today?”
“I’m not going to Watts; I’m heading to Rome,”
(She’s headed to Rome lest flies bite her ass)
When haranguing bells ring incessantly,
Back alley smooth operators hunting game,
Hijack white utility vehicle ladders on top,
Extended grip to anywhere shortly,
Because, you see, she had to get to Rome,
Her suitcase may have been worth something,
To someone accepting the Daisy Miller role,
Renovated by mosquito bites near the Coliseum,
Could anyone there have heard her scream?
Roger S. King 