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Bugs On My Face

Wind in my hair and dawn on my brow

Fresh air and freedom and no one around

All to myself this glorious morn

The new dayís cool breath is starting to warm

Just one caveat Iím learning to hate

The oceanís cool spray is salted to taste

And Iím not alone,

I got bugs on my face

Thereíre June bugs and May flies

On summerís wind ride

God knows when theyĎre born

Now I know when they died

A cornucopia of natures waste

Protein rich and vitamin laced

A moment of silence for the sacrifice,

Thatís made this day by the bugs on my face

There are moths and mosquitoes, uniramia all

The study of insects in academia hall

Up close and personal I'd have taken a class

And sought other ways to mount them on glass

Pinned them neat and evenly spaced

Gently placed in a trophy case

The marvelous beauty,

Of the bugs on my face

Marooned on an isle or imprisoned perhaps

Iíd be more receptive to musical whaps

Of marinade morsels smack on my lips

Providing pate and natural dip

Pull up beside, Iíll set you a place

Plenty to share, so grab a full plate

Please help yourself,

To the bugs on my face
 

 

 

 

 

Le beetle au jus or flutter flambe

Have saved many men having no other way

But since I just dined on eggs of a hen

Iíve really no need to taste them again

No need to broil or bake or baste

I never will starve or wither and waste

ĎCause Iíll always have,

All these bugs on my face

That bird on the wing soaring above

A twinkling eye that looks like love

A drive through window is all I am

My glasses look like a can of Spam

Or does he just see a gourmet place

Look out heís diving for cranial paste

I hope all he wants,

Is the bugs on my face

Youíd think with those eyes all over their head

So many of them wouldnít end up dead

A thousand of me is all they see

Before becoming breakfast tea

Their fate is sealed when I turn the key

Roaring into that murky sea

One on the chin for the human race,

Another day spent with bugs on my face

All in all it could be worse

If road-kill flew theyíd be no verse

All those squirrels and backwoods fare

My melon slicing through the air

So Iíll open her up and stop complaining

Wash up for dinner and start entertaining

Watching for mammals just in case,

God I love these bugs on my face



Tim Hayes

10/01/2004
 

jsphhy@comcast.net

 

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