there’s this sound
when a fly heads straight into a window
like a ping or a tong
but not exactly
it wants to get out but can’t conceive of glass
only the air currents and sun
and the existence of sugar
somewhere
it will try again and again
at different windows
or the same one
it doesn’t matter
I watch from my spot on the
sunroom couch somehow interested
in this drama pinging
against
flying the current and sun
aware
of something
sweet
beyond
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