the taste buds
on the feet of flies,
to the gut
is to learn to shake our heads with awe,
for what the fly requires, it has.
We two live,
though I require you
yet have you not,
though you have me
require me not.
And so, this fly, who cannot read
the tallest print and does not care
what age a rock,
where we are rude
unsynchronized, and halt.
Yet you and I,
our damaged flight and try to keep
this Perfect Being off our food.