Fly

I went for a run along the commuter road out
and breathed in a fly
I don't know why
I breathed in a fly

But I bent and retched, hands on knees
not at the touch of the disease-infused,
muzzle-faced fucker stuck in my osophogous --
because I couldn't feel it any more,
suffocated as it was by salival juices, or mucus,
(whatever goes on down there)
no, rather at the idea of it.

And if the traffic lodged in queues
moving stiltedly
halted then unstuck, in waves,
and the interacting crowds in their billions
like the termite mound brain,
form a kind of conciousness, then I wonder
if the Earth feels as I do
about me