All day, what a day, alone in a black box.  
With nothing to do, no one to talk to, I entertain  

a fly. The crackerjack fly is up in the air, estranged  
from news & weather. Impossible to hold onto the string  

theory of it. Uncertainty is a part of it, as is flavor,  
charge, mass, & spin. I am charmed by the fly,  

its circumlocutions, its star light star bright. If I say 
something wishful is on my mind, I feel tangential.  

The fly is the tiniest wad of paper, folded an infinite 
number of times & on which is written a set 

of instructions in molecular ink. I lipread  
the mouthparts, my first kiss, & the kiss 

is uncertainly true. Fly & I share chromosomes 
such that fly comes close to me. Fly trespasses me.