Dead Flies
There are no dead flies
in the gas station lights
because we are the flies,
we are the miniscule bones, the blood,
the antennae, the eyes, and the writhering legs.
There is no split oil
sitting in pools
because we are the oil,
we are the asphalt, the pollution
the dark, eptimized rainbows of sheen
There are no bottles
shattered in the corner
because we are the bottles,
we are the glass, the alcohol,
the unwanted possessions and the broken dreams