From the website’s prompt: “Today, try writing a poem that imposes a particular song on a place. Describe the interaction between the place and the music using references to a plant and, if possible, incorporate a quotation – bonus points for using a piece of everyday, overheard language.”

East on Thomas, North on Western Civilization Going South

Walking on the sidewalk on the north side of Thomas Road/Heading east toward the Sonic/Where I’ll order the #13 medium, tots,/Diet Coke plus a corn dog with three mustard packets,/”Flight of the Bumblebee” starts playing in my head

There are no bumblebees here/But there are bicyclists far outnumbering the pedestrians/Who out-of-nowhere insistently materialize from the gloom between streetlights/And somehow connote the threat of a swarm of bees

And somehow spark the memory of a thirsty four-mile hike/Up to the base of Piestewa Peak/Where I knew a blessedly coldwater drinking fountain awaited/To cure my early-June dehydration/But when I arrived at that oasis/I found it to be jealously guarded by honeybees/Who inexplicably preferred the cold metallic sterile drip-puddle/To the lively nectar of lantana and cactus blossoms

And the rumor of aggressive Africanized bees from way back danced in my vivid imagination/And fueled my cowardice/And, thwarted, I turned my back on the mountain I had intended to climb/And rubber-leggedly made my way to the nearest convenience store/There to buy a large bottle of the appropriately-named Lifewater

Yes, these cyclists vibed a similar menace/And I flinched and dodged ineffectually as they zoomed past

Then as I passed a bus stop/Where idlers with blankets and a shopping cart with oddments were chatting/I heard a hate-filled young woman’s voice say/…and it turns out my FUCKING husband had been texting her all along…

And it was as if stage-scrims of scenes from Armageddon/Lit up above the gloomy sidewalk/And they featured the mysterious death of bees/The uncaring wheeled hordes/The disenfranchisement of multitudes so recently compelled to sleep at bus stops/My own complicity in buying products packaged in environment-damaging plastic

And I wondered as I walked/How long the fragile embroidery/Of this our civilization/Would hold

And “The Flight of the Bumblebee” played on in an endless loop as I walked…