A hot day in July
Everyone has run for cover
A bee is on my wall, unwell
I cannot leave for work and come back and find that bee dead.
It looks drunk
Its eyes are glazed, its speech is slurred, it is unsteady on its feet
“Constable, I’m not under the influence of any intoxicant. I am a bee and I don’t know what to do”
I gave that poor critter a bit of honey
I saw its tongue come out like a straw
The bee is gone when I get home later
Area Search No Trace
So it lives somewhere else
It is alive
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