Remorseless destroyer
Drown their armies!
The big ants
moving in the tree bark
Running in and out
of the creases
Hiding in the shadows and
then breaking out into the light
I’d run and grab the hose
off the guest house
My grandparents called it
the Little House
And I’d pick them off
with the trigger sprayer
Blast!
Gone!
Blast!
Hit!
Splashing then into the air
I’d stuff the hose
down into their hill houses
and flush them all out
Up they’d come, black
like a sudden oil geyser
spilling out into the bare spots
where the tree shade
murdered the grass
I was sadistic
remorseless
their destroyer
their maker, for all they knew
filling up their tunnel system
with the great flood
I never got tired of it
I’d attack, usually weekday mornings
when my grandparents watched me
the wild blonde boy
I must have seemed like the reaper
to those ants, bringing
Armageddon
Lost souls everyday
I would play
until my grandfather
rapped on the back window
That meant to turn the hose off
the water bill was running high
I’d turn off the water and
wrap the hose back up
The innocent, blonde-headed
blue-eyed boy
Pure evil
King
The conqueror of
a million-strong
colonies
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