mark weber | the ants of summer all over the place

THE ANTS OF SUMMER ALL OVER THE PLACE (aNt pOem 4 )

Ants are telepathic —
their language travels on their exoskeleton
in waves like electrical current —

and
the word is out —

I am to be eliminated —

That battleaxe at the fumigator shop
told me that there are a billion varieties of ants (did she
say “billion”? it was some stratospherically exaggerated
number) — and that there are 250 species
in New Mexico
and
just now
half nekkid in my Gypsy Boots Cro-magnon outfit
watering the yard
I lean against the adobe wall
and
one of the six variety that I have identified in our yard
put the bite on me —
YOW

I am to be eliminated —

Red welt on top of my hand —

I remember when
I was in the first grade, out on the playground, and one
of my confreres was bit by a bee
and his hand blew up like a balloon, and
he had to be taken to hospital —

He survived but just barely —

I think I read somewhere that ants and bees
are related —

I hope I can still play guitar?
The muscles in that hand seem weak —

I better have another cup of Earl Grey —

That kid on the playground fainted —
a teacher carried him in her arms to her car
and sped away —

The 60s were so full of hope and promise —
it really messed up a generation of us who thought it
would go on forever —

(That’s why that lady in the fumigator shop is so grouchy —
nothing turned out the way she expected) —

(She might try yoga, there is a type of hope there
that protects you) —

Alas, it is time to quit frittering on this poem
and get on with my day —

There are bird feathers sticking straight up
out of the ground in our backyard —
about a dozen feathers being pulled down into the
subterranean realms — do ants eat feathers?

Mark Weber July 5&8, 2o11