Worker Ants

by on July 8, 2009 :: 0 comments

Scrambling, zig zagging
across scolding hot sidewalks
the red fire insect bangs into brethren
like bumper cars in a carnival,
moving with a singular purpose –
to serve the greater good of the colony
and the queen. I know one
who giggles, laughs
tries to hide
sexual innuendos
hers, mine,
during five minute breaks
near the water cooler.  We pass notes
between the cubicles
paper, electronic,
and the boss
almost catches us
every time.

One night
after the staff retired
for the weekend
you rewarded my diligence
granting entrance
the royal chamber
where the eggs collect.
Showered with praise
seldom shown
to lowly men such as I,
you bay at the moon
coyote wild
when fertilized with ardent desire.

As Monday creeps in
through the shutters
the sun illuminates
a troupe of simple creatures
marching across the window sill
and down onto the wooden floor
to search for
water, sugar,
to take to their families.

Finished with me, you shun my embrace,
demand I run to 7-11
to grab Black Flag and
coffee, black,
on sale near the register.

On my way back
through the park
I dodge, weave through
a maze of homeless, helpless.
You text me,
“Leave the can
on the front step,
the coffee in the kitchen
at work
and be careful not
to let the boss catch me
late again,”
so I sneak into
through the backdoor of
Jolly Termite Inspection.

Today of all days
Mr. A sees red
in the yearly profit projections
and once again,
treats, reduces
us all like
good little
he and the company
believes us
to be . . . except for
my queen
who sees me
more as a king
at times,
rather than a mere
worker ant.

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