I found a bug on a page of my book
no bigger than a piece of dust
for that is what I mistook it for at first
no bigger than a piece of dust
for that is what I mistook it for at first
But when it movd with an autonomy unfamilar
to dust particles
impervious to the fan that was blowing
overhead
I knew it must be a bug
I wondered how the bug got to be on page 71
of a book being read
on a connecting flight to New York
in the late of days of May
I sat to write this down
And when I looked to find
the small bug was gone
I wondered if he enjoyed
the book on Howard Hughes
I feel bad I couldn't turn the page for him
before he went
A life on 71
the weight of 72
He was yellow
Just like sunlight
or pee
depending on your disposition
I wonder if he has a wife
Or mistress back home
though I fear he won't make it back
there are bugs in New York
So I've heard
And books on Howard Hughes
And hopefully he won't miss his connecting flight
Update: I found the bug
squished between pages 75 and 76
I brushed his small body off the page
and I watched him float away
like a piece of dust
governed by the wind