timeless flies search for fries





In the dock lies a half-eaten banana
thrown by that little child in an embellished skirt
a swarm of flies land on the debris
making it their temporary home
from afar the flies seem to chant prayers
maybe seeking answers for their early demise
I had assumed they had no backbone,
the evidence belies me, 
you can see the time trickling away to their tunes

what I see is a blank wall splattered with ketchup
from another half-eaten burger,
this time a grown up being the culprit.

now the flies ask, where are the fries?

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