If I Were an M & M, Would You Eat Me?

‘Fucked’ implies consent, consent that I didn’t offer

as my unsuspecting cavities have been penetrated by

life’s unsympathetic appendages,

but it’s like they say, “When sodomized by life,

file a class-action lawsuit and take their asses to court!”

or something like that.

Despite the unwanted sexual experience

and the differences we may have in how ‘fuck’ is defined,

ants and I will get along just fine because of our affection

for mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Question: are there different flavor of ‘chips’ like those

that are chocolate? I would like some cherry chips.

Regardless, I went to a candy store once that sold candy covered ants,

and I went to the clerk and asked if he knew what sort of

ants they were. He didn’t understand the question.

Which of the 12,000 species of the Formicidae family

were encrusted by sugary coating?

“What does it matter? They’re ants.”

They’re ants, funny, because we’re just people.

There are thousands of different types of those

and that seems to cause a big stink in some places.

So why can’t we look at people the same

way the less than friendly clerk

looks at candy covered ants?

Why can’t we all be just people?

Like M & Ms,

different epidermal outsides,

a bunch of person in the middle.