there's a bee in the kitchen

i turn pages and my brain is just words
(my hands feel dirty, this book is dusty)
i have my feet up on the blue table
toes frying in the sun from the kitchen window
my mother would be angry but
maybe later i'll tell her a story from my book
it smells like clementines
(i had some earlier)
so i hope that's okay
(it's their season)

but then i hear the unmistakable sound
the infamous buzzing of a winged player
she's here to distract me from the pages
to make me turn my head away
cause a commotion

there's a bee in the kitchen