It made me tick

You know, one of those periods
in life of change and decisions.
That's the setting.

Like a classic literary battle
in between what is better
cities or the countryside,
I was weighing my options;
the pros and cons---
and when it comes to real estate
the reality is that we’ll face them,
both professionals and con artists.

The clock kept ticking.

It’s amusing.
For when it comes to house-hunting,
aren’t we the prey?
The beast looking for a cave
where to rest, where to build a nest,
where to lick its wounds,
where to lick privately,
where to hide?
From predators?
Mind?

The clock kept ticking away.

And day after day,
a tick, then two, then fifteen,
tried to climb up my legs,
to dig in and mine the living blood
out of me.

Come on! What a lifestyle!
Sure. It would’ve been a few drops
of my life’s sauce. However
ticks are no John Donne’s flea
mingling blood metaphysically
in betwixt you and me.

In conclusion, my odour
Is a fine fragrance for ticks;
they found me irresistable.
And so I had to crush this idea
of living In the countryside,
as I crushed their shield.

Inside a wall-protected city
that's where I’ll be,
wondering about what makes us
tick, about birds, about bees.