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Friday, September 09, 2011

Sartre never swatted at flies

Fly,
fruit fly.
Fly, the fruit’s
gone. The fruit’s done,
and your life’s begun
to be done too soon
too, but not too soon
not to enjoy
without or
with fruit,
fly.


Dedicated to all the fruit flies who've come and gone, and one poor squished frog who can now chase them in the hereafter.
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