Beetle me this…

BeetleBeetle, Beetle

Alone, still and solitary
this beetle clinging effortlessly
to the brick of my garage
on a hot summer’s night;
you don’t move, even
when I wave a finger close,
no response, nothing.

Where do you find others,
a mate, a friend even
(maybe beetles don’t
need friends, but that
would be too sad), where
are the others beetle?

Jet black back, sleek
and looking fast but
for naught; you haven’t
budged a bit as I revisit
you hours later for no
reason but to see if
you’re still there beetle.

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