Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Green splatters, a hint

They sprouted more than flew, and
there were quite a few, possibly dozens —
though, looking back, I always do
tend to exaggerate such incidents.

Anyway, this aphid swarm of grassy
greens decided to make me home,
and my chest crawled with specks, while
I waited for a bus to St. Peter's.

They could have been splattered "as if's"
spat from the mouths of hungry sparrows,
taken mid-swallow with a guffaw at
this tourist dressed in DayGlo.

I might've gotten the omen, but
intuition wouldn't surrender its clues
how to shoo insect guests attracted
by a coincidental cloth.

Perhaps they were meant as subtle hints —
an eternal city keeps its own agenda.

It's Day 28 of NaPoWriMo and the prompt from ReadWritePoem is intuition, in which we're supposed to write about an "a-ha" moment. I don't really have those, mine are more like "oh crap look what I don't understand" moments. This is based on a true story from my first visit to Rome, and no aphids were harmed in the making of it.
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