Slapping at the Glass

Slapping at the glass. I'm slapping at the glass,
And it's all morning everyday.
The buzzing, it's in my ear,
On my nose.
You'd think I could get it,
On my nose.

Some things you see but you just can't get.
Could be crawling cross my eyelashes,
Buzzing its busy buzzy song to my eye,
a lovesong from its legs to the closest thing on me
Resembling it.

I'm watching and listening to the hum.
Lips tight cause its on my mouth.
I think bout that thing I read
How we eat spiders when we sleep.
You'd think I could get it,
On my mouth.

The jar, a giant jar,
I wear it on my head
It contains several flies...
And my head.
I slap at the glass,
Don't do no good.

4 or 5 I take the jar off.
Sometimes 6 or 7.
I take the jars off and the flies,
They go free,
probably to their little fly houses
in the dirty dishes in the sink.

I find that when they've gone,
I'm still slapping.
Not the glass, but the table.
The wall. Anything that seems like its buzzing.
Just after the nearest thing that seems like
the thing that was on my nose.

Isn't that just how folks are?