Last Dance of the Love Bug

For the past few hundred years, poetry has been inaccessible to the masses. Other than popular music lyrics and advertising jingles, poetry sits behind a velvet rope and is only seriously considered by an elite minority. (I’m not sure where Andrew Dice Clay fits in to the equation, but that would be a fascinating term paper subject.) Back in the 1990’s while living in Beaufort, South Carolina, I tried to bring poetry–I didn’t say good poetry– into the minds of everyday people, if only for a day.  I posted the following ode to love bugs in a few chosen spots downtown with an anonymous pen name so my identity would remain hidden. I only unveil it now because: (a.) it no longer matters and (b.) I am currently in a domestic war with ants and I want to dredge up positive sentiments towards the insect world again.  



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