On my desk

There rests a fly.

That he's there

You can't deny.

Comes the question

To my mind.

What does he think

He's going to find?

While thinking about

The thoughts of a fly.

I took a gulp of coffee

And gave a long sigh.

Then I felt the tickle

In my throat - towards the back.

I gagged and I choked

And I began to hack.

But alas,

The fly went down.

My best hope now

Is that he might drown.

Oh God!

What if he is a she.

What a horrible thing

That would be.

For I would hate to think

Of the eggs she might lay.

Deep in my belly

Oh, please not that I pray.

For I don't wish to be

With all of my heart.

A womb for flies

To be born when I fart.

                                              - Dan Turner  6/19/06

                                  Elko, Nevada