Fly by an Empty Highway

Wind, jet, truck—it can be hard
To tell which at a distance,
But the nearby fly’s a fly.

Is any creature besides
You as frantic as a fly,
As distinctively aimless?

We’re not aimless! you protest,
As you dance on the surface
Of Earth coming to a boil.

Don’t take it personally.
The fly serves a fly’s purpose,
As you yours, noticing death.

At the end of everything,
For you or for everyone,
Chances are, there’ll be a fly.