“Bug” The Reality Poem

I look at a bug…crawling, inching along, towards me

across the floor…

“What the fuck do you think YOU’RE doing?!”

The bug stops in it’s tracks on a square white ceramic tile, 

that, to the bug must seem like an acre.

Still still there, hasn’t moved….I’ll sweep it carefully outside….

When I got close to the bug, it wasn’t facing me no more…

it was facing the door.