Annoying things (Poem)

Near the lemon tree
I saw a bullet train of ants
around the flood of pebbles.
The singing skin and the bitching bones
of insects are battling the high-heat days
under the replica city built of mud.
Birds didn’t eye each other and skipped
the beak-shakes in this plastic-pity weather.
Sun in her usual Sherlock mood
pumping up panels and IMF projections.
A spider widowed,
however, was ready
for yet another Hamlet revenge
and a Juliet’s date.