Hummingbirds possess a metabolism too frail to inhabit a larger body, & my own treats me like a husk. The hours pass & I hover above myself. Aristotle says a friend is a soul dwelling in two bodies, so what does that make you? Aristotle says metaphors are the mind experiencing itself, but what about when I let you inside me? I yank out my heart & give it to you not expecting my gesture to be reciprocated. I’m brittle: my wings flirt invisibly with the wind dashing from flower to flower & Aristotle says we cannot learn without pain, so here I am: consuming my weight in nectar.