Gold, polygonal shapes.
Rectangular bars,
hexagonal prisms,
discs,
truncated octahedrons
with soft fuzz edges and
little black legs popping off
their sides.
They were fighting each other
in tar-crackled dirt by a roadside stop.
A few feet over they were bobbing around this pond
the little ones dunking the larger ones
with unnecessary ferocity.
Someone said they must have come from outer space.
A tom-boy of a girl with tough brown hair sat by the pond.
She’d been there for some time
watching them.
“Be careful not to get their eggs on you,” she cautioned,
nodding at my cap-toe Brunori’s.
“Little specks. You don’t want to bring them
back with you
to the city.”
“Maybe we should call someone…?” I said.
“Call who?”
“Call Time,” I said. “Or Newsweek. Get someone to cover these
gold colored alien fighting bugs
before they kill us all.”
nice