The water strider glides across glass surfaces
Skeeting and sliding
In this direction and that
To and fro
Back and forth
Skeet, skeet, slide
Unable to decide
Skeet, skeet, slide
‘Til the heat subsides
Skeet, skeet, slide
Now he’s terrified
As I’ve caught him between forefinger and thumb.
Six hairy legs resigned
And limp…
I squeeze his waxy body
Until juice arrives
Dripping down
To form soft wet rings
Now he no longer has to choose.
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