Flying Insects

The summer caldron ignites flying insects
Against my cindered skin
No swiping or smacking
The Mother of all mosquitoes sucks my neck blood
I want to nurture these creatures
Supply nutrition to those without medical coverage

Summer means displaying my own plume
In the form of hairy, muscular legs and a foresty, bulging chest
Sweat rivulets descend to my Dark Region
Off limits to even the lovliest of insects

On the other hand I hate ants and bugs
I want to punch each annoying ant in the snout
Unable to launch themselves toward the horizon

I would follow a firefly anywhere
Right into October