Missy Mosquito

 

I watched a mosquito

buzz past my nose;

it made me go cross-eyed

for a moment.

“Hello, Missy,”

I said to it.

Missy simply hummed.

 

Perhaps mosquitoes

are simply misunderstood.

Malaria and West Nile Virus

aside,

what’s an itchy bump or two

compared to the respect

of all living things?

 

I followed Missy

around the city,

intent on understanding

this misunderstood

creature of God.

Missy landed tentatively

on the arm of a finely dressed

gentleman.

He gasped and raised his deadly palm-

“No!” I cried,

I threw myself under the blow

and took it in the skull

as Missy glided away.

The gentleman shook his head

and washed his hands

in the water fountain.

 

The monument

In the central part of town

Was a statue

of an old man

looking up to the sky.

Missy whee’d with glee

at the sight of someone

so still.

She perched on the tip

Of the old man’s nose.

Suddenly,

the statue swatted

and smushed Missy dead.

Legs and guts stuck

to his stone cold skin.

I sat on the bench

and looked around

at the other people

and mosquitoes

in the square.

I wondered what it all meant.