walking up the
peeling bare flagpole
of the shut-down
state school
the fly sees many
schools
through its compound
eyes
the ones that might
have been
and might still be,
the schools
(or hospitals, or
scientific
institutions) that
might improve
our short lives on
this earth,
or even lengthen
them;
of course, the fly
fails to grasp
the significance of
all this,
as far as we know,
and is soon a-buzz
within the house of
a local worthy
whose maid swiftly sprays
it stone dead.
ha ha, that'd be right
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