No Fly Zone

Sitting on a bench. This bench here. Hands clasped. Sounds muffled. Time pierced by my stare. My hair ruffled by the wind. It doesn't distract. There is something important I'm piecing together. Something so grand, so eloquent. A fly flies into my nose And in that instant I'm out of the zone. That thought is gone, completely forgotten. World peace is gone Because of one greedy fly.  


Just a slight bit too long, Dragging everywhere. Dirt along the bottom, It catches dirt and hair. I've gone to see a man, A specialist of the sort.   He was taking far too long, I couldn't stand it any more, Something snapped inside me and I yelled out, "Damn it!" He looked up at me, wide-eyed, So I said to him, "Please, sir, come size me!"