by Big Frank Dickinson
There had been a time when they regularly
Were together; a time now gone.
Now it was irregular when they met.
It was an aberration for them to be sitting and talking.
The talk was not of them; not anymore. Now
They were talking about moths and how they
Fly erratically; she said that is how we fly too.
He thought to himself that can’t be true
Because people drive to work regularly,
They do have regular patterns that are straight.
She to him: people stay in line only when obliged;
Work, sleep, and standard routines.
He was thinking of her patterns now;
Is that how observations like this were made?
Had she looked at herself and saw erraticism.
They consulted the mighty google and discovered
Not that she was indeed erratic but
That earless moths fly erratically to avoid being eaten by bats.
The moths had no real destination other than survival.
They were not together by obligation; that was over.
They were not together by routine; that had been broken.
They were earless and afraid of the bats,
That chased them in the dark.
And avoided them by swerving off the lines
Of straight patterns into a one that neither of them
Could predict any better than the bats.
They were into survival not arrival.
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