While I was unlocking my bike chain...

I dropped my u-lock. It's the kind of lock that's especially tailored for bikes. Shaped like a U, you place it wherever you want to finagle it to a bike rack, and then lock it in place with the bar end piece. But I digress.

The floor was covered by the fall flowers, tree blossoms that scatter the floor during autumn, each yellow and browning on their edges. While slowly dying from lack of water or loss of connection to mother tree they were greeted by a bee.

The small hairy beetle seemed to lack the ability to fly. Whether he was swatted from the sky, born differently from all the other pupa or preferred to be a land-borne insect, I'll never know but he had determination. The little bugger had determination.

I saw him limp on all six legs, slowly making his way to each flower, then wrestle it down into submission. If bugs had facial expression he would probably have pained ecstasy written all over. As he rubbed his body against each flower suffocating the yellow in his limbs I felt disgusted.

He was almost methodical taking the pollen he wanted from dying plants then trudging along to the next. But he didn't know what he was doing. He was innately programed to scavenge for pollen no matter how savage he became. Some can't help themselves, murderers, gluttons and Christians alike.

I wanted to be angry with the flowers for lying lifelessly as he bore into their crevices with determination so foul Caliban's attempt seems even more diminutive. I wanted them to develop spikes to battle his stinger. I wanted them to wrap around and squeeze the life out. But i didn't want to intervene because i realized that the flowers were also conditioned to be taken by the bee. They were supposed to be submissive to this ravisher. It's the only way they could survive their dying fate. The only way they could spread their legacy.

They had to be raped to have their art known.