On a hot summer’s night…

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 my friend but to see if you’re still there beetle.