6/13/22
I am starving and will die soon
if I do not catch this fly
as it hovers around my favorite branch.
I change my colors to disguise myself,
yet it goes about its hovering.
I change my colors to highlight myself,
yet I appear no more frightening.
I see other branches with other flies,
flies who will certainly satisfy my hunger
and save my life.
Yet only when I consider
migrating to those branches
does this one mighty fly
decide to stop for a bit.
I try to take advantage of this
as I attempt to reach out for it.
Yet before I may open my mouth,
it begins to hover around again.
No fly's flight has ever been this perplexing.
It does everything I want
when I don't want it to,
yet I can't seem to give it up
and branch out.
But maybe someday it will land for me,
someday after I have passed away,
and "it's just a fly" is what
some other chameleons might say.
They speak with their bellies full and
with their minds empty,
their ignorance on full display
as they pick and choose their next meal.
What luxury must that be!
But that branch you all enjoy
is much too distant.
I'm far too hungry to move,
and maybe this fly really will pose
for a photoshoot with my dead body,
but if only I can just catch this fly.
