New Year's / Old Fly

I threw some plates up
onto sticks,
and spun them half-heartedly
Like and absent-minded hula-hooper
busy on the phone
And didn't care if they stayed up
or fell and broke and where.

It was for me an old fly
Big and fat and fun to watch
Not a nuisance, but with fascination
as it flew around the room
careening into windows.

Thwap-- it hit the one labeled, "Big Party
with Sparkly Dress, Loud Music
and Heels,"
But to no avail.
I smiled and shook my head,
silly fly.

I watched it hover
at the next entitled, "Doing Nothing-
'We're Just Going to Stay in,
My Boyfriend/Husband and I,
We'll Probably Cook Dinner, Watch
A Movie Then
Go to Bed By Eleven.'"

I wondered if the fly knew how not nothing,
how something that sounded to me.
Plip-- it bounced back, landing on the couch
stunned for a moment.
I watched to see if it would recover.
It did with blithe resilience.

It made one more last ditch attempt
at window number three,
like a game show contestant, running out
of time and options,
"Low Key, Hanging Out With Friends."
But that window was also made of glass,
slippery and translucent-- plap.

The fly gave up and left the room.
This night was like any other.
Its efforts made no difference
and I, like the fly, didn't give a hoot
for the first time
since I was fifteen.

I turned out the lights and drove
to my mom's.
The fly was on its own now
to bang its head against the wall
as many times as it wanted to.
As many times as it needed.

Me?
I was on my way to Mom's
singing in the car,
happy, New Year's Eve.