Buzzsaw

I slept with a wasp last night.
No, I'm not reliving 1977
Barnstorming upstate college town bars
Trolling for femme fatales
On the fickle side of friendly.
This was an honest to god badass bug.
A winged ninja assassin
Surprisingly docile by my pillow.
Exotic eyes fawning over me
In a sweet and innocent
Expression of buggy love.
Six long legs stretching
Seductively as the alarm
Goes off with Al Green
Crooning “Let's stay together,”
Till my wife leans over
Her lips like valentines
Quivering to Reverend Al
And all hell breaks loose
For as any fool will tell
Hell hath no fury.
The wasp dive bombs us
Till my wife runs out the door
Screaming, “Kill that bitch!”
I picked up a People magazine
But she was buzzing by
With such unbridled passion
I knew light reading would not do.
So I rolled up a copy of Poets and Writers,
Jumping on the bed en garding like Errol Flynn.
The wasp, jet black and sleek, facing
Me in a stained t shirt and plaid boxer shorts.
A Mexican stand off.
I thought I spied a sadness
In one of her eyes so I thought
Of offering a truce where I'd set her up
In a little hive just outside the bedroom window.
We could spend plenty of time together on the sly.
I searched her face for a smile but found only a sneer
As she came at me like Glenn Close in “Fatal Attraction.”
And I'm flailing away like an epileptic Zorro
Breaking two bulbs on the ceiling fan,
Perfume bottles flying from the dresser,
Picture frames falling off the walls
Till I tripped laying on the floor defenseless
Till the door opened
Giving way to a floral scented fog
Where my wife's silhouette appears
Her finger pressing down on the button
Of the aerosol can like Senator Joe McCarthy
Pushing the big red button to annihilate the communists.
Gritting her teeth and scowling
In her best Clint Eastwood,
“Nobody fucks with the queen of this house.”