Usually I do this drive alone
but today a housefly snuck inside my car
and now the two of us are travelling 124 km/h
listening to the voice of Carol Off.
The fly sits on my head and then my leg.
The fly flies down and rests its feet
on the brake and I flinch,
then laugh. Good one, fly.
I steer the car into the carpool lane
to show the fly I consider him or her
a real passenger.
He or she flies up onto the dashboard
and gazes out at the other cars–
each one just like the next.
Then I see red and blue
flashing lights and realize I’ve
been paying too much attention to the fly and
not enough to the road.
I roll the window down
to speak to the officer but before
he can finish saying, “Son, don’t you know
this lane is for–” the fly darts down the officer’s throat
and he chokes and falls down dead.
Copyright © Ben Robinson. Originally published in The /tƐmz/ Review (Issue 5, Fall 2018).
Ben Robinson is a poet, musician and librarian. He recently published two chapbooks – Mumbles in Hollywood, California (Simulacrum Press) and The Sims in Real Life (The Blasted Tree) – and has more work forthcoming with The Alfred Gustav Press and Above/ground Press. He has only ever lived in Hamilton, Ontario on the traditional territories of the Erie, Neutral, Huron-Wendat, Haudenosaunee and Mississaugas. He is @bengymen on Twitter.