I'd been killing gnats for a week, and,
after dumping trash and washing their dishes,
I started to feel like maybe they'd just leave
to go find someone else's place and chill.

But they didn't,
just made baby gnats, as is their way

Michael said they really weren't that bad
if you imagined them as tiny fairies
that hang out or dance
on your garbage and old food.

It's cute, but I still checked all the ice cubes,
in case one thought it'd be a good idea
to land in the ice cube tray, die and freeze.

And finally there were enough plumes of gnats around
that I got tired of feeling like I live in an orchard, and of them
watching me in the bathroom,
waiting, I think,
to get at whatever I was going to flush,
so I drove to Wal-Mart, so early
it still feels like its yesterday,
to buy poison and kill them.

Wal-mart was playing Enya over the speaker system,
and it occured to me,
that's sort of like gnats for your ears,
and I realized why all of the shelvers act like jerks
when you try to ask them where stuff is.

First I thought to try the automotive section,
because, to me, it says
harmful or fatal if swallowed,
but then I thought,
Why would I find spray to kill gnats there?
They fly.

I then thought to check near the wood turpentine,
but, before I could bother,
I found one lonely can of flying insecticide
sitting on a shelf, apart from the herd.
I took this to be a sign of Providence,
giving a small thumbs-up to any god there might be,
and to Enya.

It didn't work though, they're still here.
It killed a lot of them,
but gnats operate in sleeper cells,
tiny terrorists of the animal kingdom.
Then again things really aren't that bad, I mean,
I don't even deal with the gnats now,
because I spend all of my time locked in my room,
because the smell of poison gives me migraines.