I was the cockroach

with very brilliant gold shell

under an old log.

You were blue bottle

fly flitting about doing

good for the insect community, then

always crashing into trees.

We fell in love, made

two thousand children,

but I still prefer to spend

my time under logs

reading the fungus.

You still prefer flying about

doing selfless deeds.

Friends all marvel at

how well our marriage has worked:

you. kept from crashing

into trees; me, brought

out into daylight.  Still, the

greatest miracle

–our children, giant

flying cockroaches, fungus

loving gold-blue flies.

-Bob Preist

Drinks for my friends.