Hope lay flopped over a lawn chair;
she had been there for hours
unable to move her limbs,
in the throws of a particularly awful depression.
All alone
until the fly plopped into the swimming pool.
The green-tinted vermin swam circles
even though it was doomed;
the pool was an ocean, yet it continued trying to escape.
Hope scooped the fly out of the pool
and watched it dry itself on the concrete.
“You’re welcome, shit-eater,” she said.
When it flew away, she smiled.