solitary ant, 23/July/17

it feels like autumn
it’s summer
I’ve never done a handstand, I’ve never been able to…. I’ve never done a cartwheel, I’ve never been able too……… never did a black-flip, guess what, I’ve never been able too……. if I did them now I’d likely snap something, break in two, come off worse, black and probably blue….. not the blue of the sky, nor the blue of water, though water isn’t blue it’s clear, colourless, see-through, unless it’s a pond or a lake or a sea or an ocean when it’s green or brown or black or grey, sometimes it’s silver except when it’s waves, when it’s waves its white, molten and glass….. it’s just what the sea throws away, excreting one wave after another until drained and lies flat as a tundra which isn’t blue but might sometimes be found under blue………
one ant…. one solitary ant…….. wandering lostly over my step where once there was an ants nest, a colony, hundreds and more milling about being ants doing things that only ants do but it had to be there, there on my step, on my step by the door, just where they’ve shouldn’t have been…. ants have a place but not on my step, not knocking on my door, not slipping through floors and through skirting, not into my house, not oozing like puss form my walls…….. so they had to go……
at first I tried to dissuade them but that didn’t work, you know you can’t reason with ants, so I had to you see, you do understand, I had too, I had too…… put down the powder….
most of them died, maybe not all, but they never came back except one, just the one, one solitary ant…….. it looked lost…. it’d lost its home, its family, all of its friends, it looked in each hole to find nothing…… gone……. left all alone……. where do solitary ants go when they’re left all alone………..
sometimes it’s crap having a conscience………

© robert greig 2017


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