Screens block the view, he says
           Flies are natural
Mosquitoes remind me of my
          Childhood
                    They buzz
He doesn’t think of where they have been

Think of where it has been, my mother would say
          As I scooped up a found quarter off a
                    Strange street
Think of who had it last
          As I shoved it deep into my pocket
                    To nestle
                              hidden
                    Powerful in my thoughts

Think of where he was last, the doctor says
          Ask where he has been
          I open a powerful moment
                    And shove it back into my memory

Think of where they’ve been
          In whose pocket they have been hiding
Ask where he has been
          Flies are natural
          As they buzz on the dog droppings
                    Fly in the window and
                    Settle on the potato salad