The Fly On Our Pickle

I think I know that fly

That fly followed us from our apartment

on W. 11th St

When I opened the door he flew right in

and when we left, he flew right out again

Followed us on the subway to Times Square

Took the Shuttle apparently

Followed us all the way through the tunnels

up the escalator and into Grand Central Station

Then down to Juniors in the food court below

where he joined us for lunch

the best Chicken Caesar Salad on the planet

So famous, even the flies know about it 

We asked the waitress for an additional chair

but he took a seat on our pickle instead

“Oh, don't worry,” we told her,

“we know him. He normally lives

“down in the Village”

The waitress eyed us suspiciously

“East or West?” she asked

“As if that mattered!” we said