[Richard G]

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On the Aerodynamics of Bees


He got me. Did you see that?
Little fat, winged fucker shot me.
I come in for my daily fix
and pow! covered in coffee. Man,
what a waste, a venti skinny
cinnamon dolce latte. Fuck,
hot. Damn, that better not be blood.
And who thought it was funny
to give a bow and arrow to a baby?
Wait. How come he can fly?
Is gold a drug?
Was my muffin spiked?
Say, anyone ever tell you
you have the most beautiful–


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