Flies

I’m a people watcher
I really don’t care for them,
I watch like I’d watch flies on my oatmeal,
I am curious and disturbed.

I am no better than they are
I’m also just looking for food,
looking to reproduce,
to create,
and to mind my own business
until I die.

Until I die.
Do they comprehend the idea of their own finiteness?
As they buzz and vomit
and enjoy my oatmeal
do  they set alarms on their wristwatches?
Do they worry that I might swat them?

Why don’t they?
Shouldn’t I be guaranteed, by my greater strength
and might and violence,
to witness them cower?
To experience their fear.

Instead they keep walking,
hopping and squirming.
Probably smiling.
What are they smiling about?
Why such a gleam in their eyes?
Aren’t they just flies?

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