Years ago, a man told a story about his daughter,
Who was asked, in a class,
Whether she would tear the wings off a butterfly
For a trip to Europe.
Apparently, these are the pressing questions that need answering.
The man thanked God that he had reached a place on his spiritual journey
That he wouldn’t do it.
Years later, I am still unwilling to consider this question honestly,
Preferring to judge the question for its ridiculousness
From the real world of fly swatters and temporal insects.
But I confess a certain sorrow
As I caught a glimpse of flitting yellow through the windshield
A split second before a smatter of yellow dust was all that remained.
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