I was attacked on a warm summer day,
whilst walking around a frog pond,
in the Morgan Arboretum. I was attacked
by a cloud, a vicious, voracious cloud:
of bloodthirsty mosquitoes and homicidal deer flies.
But I’m happy to report that I was rescued,
just a moment later, by a bunch of benevolent bad-asses,
full-patch members of that notorious Latin gang,
Although the police and the press persist
in referring to them as The Flying Dragons,
this is, I’m told, based upon a ridiculously bad translation
of the gang’s Latin name. They prefer to be known,
in English, as The Saffron-Winged Meadowhawks.
But I knew them that day, that lazy summer day,
as my security detail. They allowed me to hunt
for frogs, for hours, in peace.
—John Faithful Hamer, The Myth of the Fuckbuddy (2017)