Late for the Moth Dance

Late for the Moth Dance

He fluttered, captive

too dumb to know it was glass

Late for the moth dance

Tonight at dinner, a poor giant moth kept banging into the glass over and over, trying desperately to get outside so he could make the moth dance in time to dance with the moth maidens. I told my date, "I have to rescue that moth." He said, "Why don't you go to the restroom and I'll rescue the moth while you're in there." I knew this was code for mashing poor Fred (such a regal moth name) into oblivion and telling me that he gave him to a good family on a large farm with lots of room to run. After several iterations of this conversation, I finally convinced my date that it was okay to rescue Fred, and he agreed to let me rescue him, most likely so he didn't have to hear about it anymore. I am happy to report that Fred made it to the dance, but then promptly expired because moths only live like, two weeks, tops.