summer and heat
sticky enough to doom
cicadas, their warbling
hisses rising steady
as the day meets the impossible.
killer bugs, smaller
than fingernails, land
delicately on knees,
on elbows, anywhere
a swat can be dodged.
so the trucks move out,
old pick-ups equipped with
hissing white fog,
and warning lights to
scare children back inside
homes shut tight,
so poison kills
the flying buzzes,
their wicked needle noses
poised to strike skin,
but DDT flops them
dead.
you brought back vivid memories of the mosquito sprayers of my youth--we kids were daring (stupid?), we used to ride our bikes in that phog LOL hasn't affected me yet LOL
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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you brought back vivid memories of the mosquito sprayers of my youth--we kids were daring (stupid?), we used to ride our bikes in that phog LOL hasn't affected me yet LOL
loved this one--thank you for the memory jog
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
sounds like my visit south thanks for the memories
:)
Love Tinka