wasp
nest in the top corner
of the window
is getting larger.
i can hear
them
busy with their lives
swarming,
raising their little wasp
children.
working hard as always
with what they
do,
whatever that is.
i hear them talking,
laughing,
telling tall tales
about how they
stung someone earlier
in the day
who tried to swat
them away
with a newspaper.
newspapers, they laugh,
imagine that,
like it's 1958.
who reads
the paper these days?
stung him
right under his arm
anyways.
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