To be fair, some microbes are 

supposed to be good for you

As the wasp, as the worm, 

as the pink Pepto Bismol

that tastes like metal for kids.

I hover above the toilet bowl,

my Head a fishEye, both bowls

my microbiome knows from

the fish that ties the greens and

blues we share between us.

Fish eyes and our eyes are both

bowls of water, but only

one of us still lives to swim.

So I must see contrary

to how I must see, must be,

without those who live within me.

Now

I lurch for evolution

because I can have neighbors,

but not bedfellows, even

if there are cities, history

in me.