"I don't see
The point of wasps,"
He said to me.
"I mean bees make honey
But wasps...
They sting and things -
Fuss and buzz
About my plums."
Around us, flowers
Unravel like fragrant fractals.
And life, singed into the soil,
Dazzles in its place.
"Bees don't make honey
For us," I say.
"The point of wasps,
Like the point of bees -
Like me -
Is just to be..."
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