The Gadfly

The Gadfly and me,
We only have a superficial grasp
of the other.

Suppose it's some sort of Horsefly,
all bites and shooing-hand-waves to which dodging comes quite naturally;
Evasion through discursive angles.
The intentional upward tornado,
my favorite.

To him, the hand-fly lingers.
Wingless warm tethered beast,
connected to size beyond comprehension.