by Dane Cervine

rows and rows
of cars thick
as a beehive

for the shuttle that will carry
me to the plane that will carry
me to the next
place I must be

in this catacomb of drones
each car
the armor
that carries the essence
of the hive, the drone

alone the key
to the honey
that will sweeten someone else's mouth--
the point of it all.

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